


Honor for All

by Paradox451



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradox451/pseuds/Paradox451
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betrayed and abandoned, former Lord Protector Carmilla Karnstein was left to rot in Coldridge prison for crimes she didn't commit.  When her hope is restored by a mysterious note and a chance at freedom, Carmilla embarks on a quest for equal parts redemption and vengeance, seeking to clear her name and rescue her former charge from the clutches of the corrupt and wicked- all while contending with a terrible plague and dealing with a mysterious, otherworldly, and incredibly annoying being known as the Outsider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love and Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my demented little Dishonored AU! I'm not entirely sure where this idea came from, but having never written a fic before I decided to run with it. I'm my own editor for this project; if you see any issues or have any suggestions to improve the writing, feel free to let me know! I'll be uploading whenever I can to help fill the void between seasons, but with college being how it is I'm not gonna be able to keep a consistent schedule. Please be patient.

The servants of Dunwall Tower were used to seeing strange things.  It was inevitable; when serving the most powerful men and women in the empire, a certain level of eccentricity was to be expected.  So no one was at all surprised to see Lord Protector Carmilla Karnstein- personal bodyguard to the Princess of the Empire of the Isles- crouched on the terrace railing like some kind of broody, antisocial bird.  The harsh midday sun beat down on Carmilla’s back, causing her to fidget uncomfortably.  Her uniform- a long navy coat over an ornate dress suit- made her feel like she was sitting in a fireplace.

 _Of course she decides that this is the perfect time to run off somewhere_ , Carmilla thought darkly.  _I could be inside catching up with security reports, or stealing the Royal Physician’s philosophy books; instead, I’m stuck out here playing hide and seeks with a hyperactive creampuff_.

            Not that she’d had much choice in the matter.  She could never say no to the princess.

            Brushing aside a stray lock of hair, Carmilla surveyed her surroundings.  To her right, a group of guards patrolled the three- tiered gardens that led up to the tower entrance; there was nowhere to hide up there.  On her left, a little ways down the cliffs that the tower was built on, was an open area adjacent to the barracks.  It was used to store supplies brought in from the river, and from a distance Carmilla could see a small white- clad shape crouched behind a pile of crates.

            _Bingo_

            Slinking across the terrace railing like a cat, Carmilla kept her eyes fixed on her prey- Laura Hollis, Daughter of Emperor Samuel Hollis and heir to the throne.  Even from above, Carmilla could see the childlike excitement on her face as she peered around the crates.  It was adorable, really.  Carmilla made her way down the cliff towards Laura without a sound, coming to a stop crouched directly behind her.

            “Found you, Cupcake,” she whispered, her voice a low purr.

Laura shrieked at the sudden sound, spinning around so fast she almost fell.  “Carm!” she exclaimed, sounding flustered.  “I-… You-… What-… How did you- ?”

            Carmilla cut her off with a laugh.  “Breathe, Cupcake. Breathe.”  She gestured to the terrace above them, where a few guards had already gathered in confusion at the sound of Laura’s shriek. “I was on the terrace; I could see you from above.”

            “No fair,” Laura replied with a pout.  Carmilla hoped she wasn’t blushing.  _No one is allowed to be this cute_.

            “Whatever you say, Buttercup,” Carmilla laughed, standing up from her crouch.  At her full height she was only about an inch taller than Laura, but that was where the similarities between them ended.  Where Carmilla’s raven curls framed a pale face sculpted of clean angles and dark circles, Laura’s features were softer and friendlier, and her honey- colored hair fell straight down her back.  Her piercing eyes, ever inquisitive, looked at you like you were the most important person in the world, and her lips…

            _No no no no no.  Bad Carmilla.  Stop thinking about kissing the princess_.

            “So,” Carmilla said, desperately trying to distract herself from her previous train of thought, “can we go back inside now?  Or is there some reason you dragged me out here to hunt you down in the blazing heat?"

Laura grinned.  "There's no need to be grumpy, Carm,” she replied, elbowing Carmilla in the side.  "Besides, I have a surprise!"  Turning towards the stairs that led back up to the gardens, Laura beckoned and yelled "You can come out now!"  After a few seconds, one of the servants- a tall woman with curly red hair- appeared carrying what looked like a blanket and a tray of small cakes and pastries.  "Since today is a special occasion," Laura continued, helping the servant- Carmilla thought her name might be Perry- set up the blanket, "I figured we'd have a picnic to celebrate!"  She looked pointedly at Carmilla.  "You do remember what day it is, right?"

 _Of course_ , Carmilla thought to herself.  _Hard to forget the most important day of your life_.

            "Is it a holiday?"  Carmilla asked innocently, struggling to hold back her laughter at the look of panic on Laura's face.  "Relax, cutie, I'm just messing with you.  Of course I remember."

            Laura breathed a sigh of relief.   "Great!" she said.  "Not that I thought you forgot or anything, I just... anyways, let’s get started!"  And with that, Laura sprawled out on the blanket and reached for one of the pastries.  Carmilla sat next to her, trying to hold back a smile.  The two sat in silence for a while, looking out over the Wrenhaven River; a massive waterway that split the city of Dunwall down the middle.  From their position on the cliff, the pair could see the ships that dotted the surface of the water; river patrols crewed by members of the royal navy, Merchant vessels bound for the rest of the empire, and even a couple of whaling vessels dragging in their catches to be harvested for meat and oil.  Across the river, a disorganized mix of private homes and massive factories spread like a stain along the horizon.  From a distance it all looked so simple.  No rat borne plague ravaging the poorer sections of the city, and no gangs fighting over what was left behind.  Just the light dancing on the water and the steady hum of the ocean breeze.

 

            “It’s hard to believe it’s been eight years,” Laura said quietly.  The cakes and pastries had been finished a while ago (mostly by Laura herself), and the pair sat together on the blanket, with Laura nestled into Carmilla’s side.

            “Mmn,” Carmilla murmured, desperately trying to breathe normally with Laura’s head resting on her shoulder. Eight years… “You know, I still don’t know what possessed 11- year old you to choose me.”

            Laura sat up in surprise.  “What are you saying?  You passed every trial with incredible skill, and you were leagues ahead of the other candidates when it came to dueling.  Why wouldn’t I pick you?”

            Carmilla laughed.  “Maybe,” she said, a harsh edge coloring her voice. “But I was also a bratty, broken thirteen- year- old kid with authority issues who pissed off everyone she met.  The other candidates were cultured, well- spoken, and far better choices for Lord Protector than I was.”  Carmilla laid back on her elbows, staring wistfully across the river.  “And despite all that, you still picked- and I believe I’m quoting you here- ‘the Royal Spymaster’s obnoxious daughter’ to stay by your side.  And after all these years you’ve never told me why.”  Carmilla looked over at Laura, grinning. “Unless you chose based on which candidate was the most attractive; then everything makes perfect sense.”

            Laura’s face turned a violent shade of crimson.  “I- you- I didn’t-… Shut up!” she stammered, crossing her arms with a flustered look on her face.  “Ok, so maybe you were a little… harsh… back when we first met.  But… you’ve changed.”  Her expression softened.  “You stood by me when no one no one else would, and you’ve saved my life more than once.”  The blush hadn’t faded from Laura’s cheeks; if anything, it had only gotten worse.  “Besides, even back then there was something special about you.  You were…”

            Carmilla waited, but the end of the sentence never came.  Turning her head, Carmilla could see that something on the river had captured Laura’s attention; she was staring down at a small craft approaching the waterlock.

            “Isn’t that Betty?”

            Carmilla sat up, shielding her eyes to get a better look at the boat.  The figure that stood at the stern was too far away to make out clearly, but her navy blue uniform was unmistakable.  Lady Elizabeth Ann Spielsdorf, Lord Protector to Emperor Samuel Hollis, had returned from her 6 month voyage.

            _Hopefully with good news_

            Laura was up in a flash, practically dragging Carmilla along with her as she raced back up the steps, through the gardens, and to the short bridge connecting Dunwall tower to the waterlock.  Designed before Laura’s father took the throne, the waterlock was an incredible feat of engineering.  Once a boat entered and the massive gates were closed, massive amounts of river water was pumped in from outside, lifting boat, sailors, and cargo up the face of the cliff to the tower.   The system made Dunwall tower all but unassailable atop the cliffs, while allowing for the easy transport of goods and personnel; Carmilla herself had used it many times since coming to the tower.

            “Betty!”  Laura squealed, running to embrace the older woman.  Lady Spielsdorf gave her a weary smile; she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

            _That doesn’t bode well_

            “I’m glad to see you’re as cheerful as ever, your majesty” Lady Spielsdorf said, here tone balanced but strained.  Laura pulled back, beaming. 

“How was your trip?” she asked.  Do you have information from the other isles? Can they help us?

            Lady Spielsdorf’s expression darkened.  “We should go find His Highness,” she suggested, pulling an official- looking document out of her jacket.  “It will be easier to explain this to both of you at once.”  With that she turned and walked away, heading towards the Gazebo where Emperor Hollis took council during the summer months.  Carmilla looked over at Laura, whose cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a look of concern

            “Don’t worry,” Carmilla reassured her, reaching over to grasp Laura’s hands with her own.  She was rewarded with a blush and a timid smile.  “The other Isles must know SOMETHING about the rat plague; it had to come from somewhere, right?”

            “I guess…” Laura replied, sounding unconvinced.

            “Besides,” Carmilla went on, “Even if there’s no new information, the Royal Physician will put together a cure before the season’s end.”  She pulled Laura a little closer by the hand, allowing herself to ignore the rules of her station for just a moment.  “And even if he can’t, one of the other Natural Philosophers will find a cure.  We’re hardly helpless.”

            “I know… I know…”  Laura didn’t sound entirely convinced, but she was smiling again as she moved to follow Lady Spielsdorf, Carmilla’s hand still clasped firmly in her own.  The pair made their way towards the Gazebo, located at the highest point in the gardens.  As they climbed the stairs, Carmilla could hear an argument in process.

            “They’re sick people, not criminals!”  The first voice exclaimed.  Even from a distance Carmilla recognized Emperor Hollis’s deep, commanding voice.

            “We’ve gone beyond that question, your majesty,” a second voice replied.  It was harsh and cold, and Carmilla felt a shiver pass up her spine at the sound.

“They’re my people, and we will save them from the plague if we can.  All of them.”

            “Very well,” the second voice replied.

            “We will not speak of this again.”  The Emperor’s tone left no room for debate.  Carmilla could feel Laura tugging on her hand, but her feet refused to move.

            _Maybe she won’t come this way.  Maybe she’ll leave through the tower.  Maybe-_

“Good afternoon, Lady Hollis.”

            Stifling a shudder, Carmilla looked up at the Royal Spymaster.  She was smiling down at them from atop the steps, and anyone else might have mistaken her expression for kindness.  But Carmilla could see the barely contained scorn writhing behind her adopted mother’s eyes.  Her chest tightened; she felt as though her own lungs were trying to strangle her.

            “Spymaster,” Laura said, tone cautious.  She’d heard enough of Carmilla’s stories about her mother to be wary of her.  “We’re going to see my father; leave us, please.”

            “Of course,” the Spymaster replied.  “I would hate to stand in the way of the Princess and her _noble_ Lord Protector.”  The contempt in her voice was palpable, but to Carmilla’s relief she continued past them down the steps.

            “Carm?”  Laura said softly, looking worried.  Carmilla shook her head, offering Laura a weak smile.

            “I’m fine, Cupcake,” Carmilla reassured her, resuming their trek up the stairs.  “Let’s go find your father.”

            The two made their way to the Gazebo, where Emperor Hollis and Lady Spielsdorf were waiting for them.  Laura ran to meet her father, releasing Carmilla’s hand as she went; Carmilla tried to ignore the pain in her chest at the sudden loss of warmth.  Instead, she focused on the document that Emperor Hollis was in the process of reading.  From the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.

            “I’m glad the two of you are here,” the Emperor said gravely.  “Lady Spielsdorf’s news is… Troubling, to say the least.”  He turned to face the river.  “The other isles are as scared of the Rat Plague as we are; they plan to blockade us until they can be sure it won’t spread.”

            “They can’t do that!” Laura cried, outraged.  “Half of the empire’s whale oil comes out of Dunwall; they’ll be harming their own citizens by cutting us off.”

            “Apparently they think it’s worth the risk.”

            Carmilla listened to the Emperor and his daughter argue the best course of action for their people as her eyes scanned their surroundings, as she’s done thousands of times before.  She felt uneasy, her carefully trained instincts on high alert.  Maybe it was because of the news they’d just received, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.  Still… as far as she could tell, everything was quiet.

            And then it hit her.

            As nonchalantly as she could manage, Carmilla walked to the edge of the terrace and looked down at the garden below, temporarily leaving the safety of the royals to Lady Spielsdorf.  The guards that were supposed to be on duty were gone; the servants that usually tended the gardens had vanished.  The entire garden was empty.

            “Elizabeth,” she called out, keeping her tone calm.  Lady Spielsdorf was by her side in an instant.  They both knew that Carmilla only used the other Lord Protector’s first name when the situation was dire.  She comprehended the problem as quickly as Carmilla had before turning back towards the gazebo.

            “Your Majesty,” Lady Spielsdorf called out, “Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside.  It would-“

            Her words were cut off by the blade that pushed through her chest.

            Carmilla’s shock barely lasted a moment before she dashed under the gazebo.  From behind her she heard the sound of steel on leather as Emperor Hollis drew the sword he carried at all times.  As Lady Spielsdorf’s body fell, Carmilla was able to get a good look at the assailant.  He- was it a he? -wore a dark hooded coat and full- body cloth armor.  A mask with a breathing apparatus covered his or her face, and the sword in their hand dripped red.

            _How the hell did he catch us by surprise?_

            The question was answered a second later as the masked figure vanished, reappearing in front of Carmilla mid sword swing.  She intercepted the blow with her own blade, staggering the assassin and giving Carmilla time to bring her sword down across the exposed chest.  The figure vanished into nothing, as if they’d never existed. Even as they went, however, Carmilla could see more masked figures surrounding the gazebo, appearing from the air itself as if by magic.   Carmilla emptied her mind, drawing on the training etched into her bones.  Her mother had taught her to kill, and her training with Lady Spielsdorf had shown her how to protect a charge.  Now Carmilla combined the disciplines, becoming a barrier of steel and death between her charges and their mysterious assailants.  Assassins appeared again and again, three more rising up from nothing as each was cut down, but to no avail: Carmilla fought like a whirlwind, cutting down anyone who approached.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the flow of enemies ceased.  As soon as the danger had passed Laura ran to embrace Carmilla, burying her face in the crook of Carmilla’s neck.  Carmilla held her close, desperately trying to reassure her that they were safe.  Looking around, she could see the Emperor sheathing his unused sword.  None of the assailants had gotten past her.

            _Good_.

            “Thank you, Carmilla,” The emperor said, sounding shaken. “If you hadn’t been here-“

            That was as far as he got before the world was torn asunder.

            Gripped by an invisible force, Carmilla was wrenched away from Laura and thrown into the air, held in place by an otherworldly green glow that blurred her vision and chilled her to the bone.  Through the haze she saw more masked strangers appearing around the gazebo, along with a grizzled man in a heavy knee- length red coat.  He was the only attacker whose face was uncovered, and the green light that held Carmilla captive poured from his left hand.  The man in the red coat moved to grab Laura, holding tight to her arm as the other assassins advanced on the emperor.  Laura screamed and fought, but there was nothing she could do.  The red- coated man was too strong.  Emperor Hollis let out an angry bellow and charged the man, sword in hand.  But he was a leader, not a soldier, and his rage dulled his technique.  The man in red swatted the emperor’s blade aside with almost contemptuous ease.  Then his own sword flicked up and slashed across Emperor Hollis’s throat.  Laura screamed as her father fell, finally breaking free of the man in red only to be restrained by one of the other assassins.  And then… they were gone.  Vanished without a trace.

            Freed from whatever force had kept her prisoner, Carmilla fell to the ground.  She felt like she was going to be sick.  Her lungs refused to take in oxygen, and her vision blurred even further.  Everything seemed so… surreal.  As if she was a spectator looking in on the rest of the world.  She barely processed the sound of soldiers running up the steps to the gazebo, or the confused murmuring as they took in the sight of the Lord Protector kneeling over the Emperor’s corpse.  It was only when she heard an all- too familiar voice that Carmilla finally came back to reality.

            “His own daughter’s bodyguard. Ironic.”

Carmilla looked up to meet her mother’s harsh gaze, finally registering the soldiers circling around her.  She wanted to scream, to cry out _“Where were you?  Why weren’t you here?”_ , but the words died in her throat.  Carmilla’s lungs kept tightening in her chest, and she thought she might succumb to the darkness at the edges of her vision at any moment.

The Royal Spymaster regarded her daughter coldly.  “Send word to Parliament,” she ordered one of the guards, “and tell them that the princess’s Lord Protector has killed the Emperor.”  Carmilla’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but a sharp blow to the back of her head sent her sprawling.  Everything faded to black, and the last thing Carmilla saw before the darkness claimed her was her mother’s icy smile.

6 MONTHS LATER

 

            Carmilla came to slowly, the darkness of oblivion giving way to the dull grey stone of Coldridge Prison.  The restraints on the interrogation chair dug into her wrists, and her skin burned from the torturer’s chemical brands.

            _I must have passed out from the pain again_

            “This is your last chance, Carmilla.”

            A low groan escaping her lips as she fought her way back to consciousness, Carmilla turned to face the man in front of her.  High Overseer Cambell was the highest ranking member of the Abbey of the Everyman- the largest religious faction in the Empire- and he carried himself with the arrogance of a man who knew exactly how important he was.  “Sign this confession and tell me what you did with Lady Hollis,” he continued, “And let me give you the rites to put your spirit at ease.”  Carmilla said nothing.  She’d told them the truth when she was first brought in for questioning, and her interrogators had responded with weeks of torture and starvation until she could barely speak at all from the pain.  But she refused to confess to a crime she didn’t commit.  Besides, she’d be executed tomorrow no matter what she said.  The truth wasn’t going to save her from what awaited.

            Cambell shook his head at Carmilla’s resolute silence.  “If you’re not going to confess, there’s nothing more I can do for you.”  He motioned to the guards.  “Take the prisoner back to her cell.  We’re done here.”

            The prisoner.  Was that all she was now?

            Carmilla did nothing as she was led back to her cell down the drab prison hallway, shuffling awkwardly thanks to the shackles on her hands and feet.  In the beginning she’d taken every opportunity to try and escape, her keen eyes studying every aspect of the prison looking for an opening- a careless guard, a lock left open; anything she could use to her advantage, .  She’d tried to slip away once, when the guards escorting her to the torture room were distracted for a moment by a new arrival; she’d made it all the way to the edge of her cell block before being apprehended.  That was when they made the shackles on her arms and legs permanent. Carmilla had kept watching, but no more opportunities to escape presented themselves; eventually she’d given up hope entirely. What was the point in escaping?  Laura was probably dead.  The entire city believed she was a traitor.  She had nothing left to fight for.

            The guards shoved Carmilla into her cell, the heavy iron bars sliding shut behind her.  The cell was cold stone, with a single cot in the far corner and a barred window too high up to actually see out of.  The walls were covered in tally scratches- some old, some all too recent.  Carmilla herself had tried to keep track in the beginning, but she’d given up two months in.  Instead, she’d stood on the bed and scratched crude stars into the ceiling.  She’d stare at them at night, pretending she could see sky through stone.

            The low scrape of steel on stone signaled Carmilla’s dinner; looking over at the door, she could see a guard setting the usual tray of bread and water on the floor.  It looked surprisingly fresh; most of her meals were stale and moldy.  “You should eat, Carmilla,” the guard said.  “This meal comes from a friend.”  Then he closed the cell and walked away.

_A friend?_

            Carmilla didn’t have any friends.  The guards hated her, the other prisoners hated her.  The people believed she’d killed their Emperor, and made their beloved Princess vanish into thin air.  She hadn’t had a single visitor in the 6 months she’d been imprisoned.  So who would’ve… Carmilla walked over to the tray cautiously, picking up the bread and examining it.  The loaf seemed safe enough, so she wolfed it down.  After months of eating trash, the fresh bread tasted like bliss.  It was only once she’d finished eating that she saw the note hidden under the bread.

            **Carmilla,**

**Who we are is irrelevant. Just know that we have faith in you, and that we believe the princess may still be alive.**

**Here are the keys to your cell, as well as the shackles that bind you.  Once you’re out, head for the prison’s interrogation room.  Take the explosive we’ve planted in the adjoining Interrogator’s office, inside the safe, and use it on the outer door of the prison.  Once the bomb goes off, run.  Make for the river and enter the sewers through the nearest opening.  You’ll find some useful gear stashed there, as well as a map that will lead you through the sewers to us.**

**Good luck.  We need you alive for what’s to come.**

**~A Friend**

            Underneath the note were a pair of metal keys.

            Carmilla’s hear soared.  Was Laura really alive?  She’d given up hope months ago; surely the princess had been killed once she was taken.  And yet here was this note, this simple little hand- scrawled message from some unknown benefactors, giving her the first faint spark of hope she’d felt in months.    Hesitantly, Carmilla picked up the key and slid her arm through the bars of her cell.  When she tried to twist the key in the lock, it turned with a soft click; the sweetest sound Carmilla had heard in six months.  Shifting the door aside as quietly as she could, Carmilla stepped out of her cell and took in a deep breath.  Even the air tasted a little fresher than it had before.  For the first time in months she felt like more than a prisoner; more than a failure.  She was Carmilla Karnstein, Lord Protector.  And she had a princess to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	2. Dishonored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a daring escape! Will Carmilla make it out in one piece?

           

Coldridge prison was designed to contain Dunwall’s most dangerous criminals, and its layout reflected this purpose.  Instead of guards patrolling the cell blocks, they were stationed at the solitary access hallways designed to serve as checkpoints.  As Carmilla crept towards the exit to her cell block, she could see the usual three guards keeping watch; they’d temporarily left their positions- each in a different part of the hall, keeping the entire area in line of sight- and were chatting in the center of the checkpoint. Six months ago, this would’ve been easy; she’d have killed the guards in the seconds it took them to register the danger they were in.  But Coldridge had sapped Carmilla’s strength, and she was currently unarmed.  As much as she hated to admit it, Carmilla didn’t think she’d be able to beat the guards in anything resembling a fair fight.

_I’ll have to take them out one at a time._

The guards were facing away from her, chatting about the money they’d made betting on hounds; Carmilla waited for them to return to their posts before taking action.  The first guard made things almost too easy.  His back was to Carmilla when her arms wrapped around his neck and dragged him away, struggles subsiding as his brain was slowly deprived of oxygen.  Carmilla stashed him under the cot in her cell.  She considered taking his sword and pistol, but instinct told her that it would take too long.  She had moments at best before the other guards noticed their missing shift mate; she’d have to arm herself when she had a moment to breath.  The commotion drew the attention of the other inmates, and for a moment Carmilla thought they might ruin everything.  But they stayed quiet, apparently curious how things would play out

_Good to see my blockmates aren’t ALL a bunch of lackwits._

The second guard was barely more of a challenge.  He stood with his back to the far right wall in an attempt to keep both doors in his peripheral vision.  Had he not been occupied crushing a rat, he probably would’ve noticed Carmilla’s assault on his shift mate.  Carmilla skirted the edge of the hall, keeping to the shadows until she reached her target.  A fast blow to the head stunned him; a faster strike to the throat stopped his scream.  Her strikes were weak from starvation, but years of study and training had ingrained the weaknesses of the human body into her mind; she knew exactly where to land her strikes.  The final two blows- Carmilla’s foot against the guard’s head, and his head against the concrete floor- where enough to put him down.  He too was stashed under the cot. The final guardsman was drawn by the noise, and he stalked down the hallway with his sword drawn.  His eyes darted this wall and that, but his ears failed to pick up Carmilla’s soft footsteps until it was far too late.  The guard’s sword clattered to the ground as his hands flew to his throat, desperately struggling against Carmilla’s ironclad grip on his neck; the adrenaline bumping through her blood lending the strength of desperation to her weakened frame.  Eventually, however, he too went limp.  Carmilla took his jacket, sword, and pistol, which she put on over her prison uniform.  She also took a couple coins of 5 that she found in his pockets.  If all went well, she might need them.

_WHEN all goes well,_ _she corrected herself._

After stashing the third guard’s body away in her cell, Carmilla crept through the now empty hall and climbed up to the cast- iron catwalk that spanned the length of the cell blocks.  It was the fastest way to get anywhere in the prison- including the interrogation room.  She’d memorized the layout of the prison back when she first arrived, and she knew the location of the interrogation room all too well.  There were only two guards patrolling the walkway, and with her new weapons Carmilla made short work of them; a quick blow to the backs of their heads was enough to take them down.  Carmilla made sure not to kill them; the last thing she needed was for drops of blood to give her away. It was only a short way to the interrogation room; after peeking through the keyhole to make sure she was alone, Carmilla cracked open the door and slipped inside.

   The interrogation room was cold an empty, and the chair that sat in its center made Carmilla shudder.  Her wrists still ached from her earlier interrogation with Cambell.  Above her head, one of her mother’s ‘ORDER SHALL PREVAIL’ banners hung from the ceiling, illuminated by whale- oil spotlights.  At the far side of the large chamber, a raised dais led to the interrogator’s office. Carmilla made a beeline for the dais, pausing only to glare up at the massive painting of her mother that hung on the wall before entering the office.  Ever since the former Spymaster was elected Lord Regent in the wake of the Emperor’s death and the disappearance of his heir, paintings of her had appeared all over the prison; Carmilla thought it was a ridiculous. She went straight for the safe in the far corner of the Interrogator’s office, and found the key still in the lock.   Presumably the work of Carmilla’s mysterious new benefactor.  Inside the safe sat the clockwork explosive.  Carmilla examined it cautiously; she’d never seen anything quite like it.  She’d dabbled in a bit of Natural Philosophy back at the tower, but she’d never have been able to put together something like this.  Whoever her new friend was, they were either brilliant or had brilliant accomplices.

            Carmilla started to leave, but an audiograph player on the interrogator’s desk caught her eye.  The device itself wasn’t out of place; it was common to record confessions so that they could be used in court.  But this player still had an audiograph in it, and a recently used one at that.  Overtaken by curiosity, Carmilla walked over to the machine and reset it, initiating the playback function.

            “Damn it all, she’s unconscious again!”

            The High Overseer’s voice floated out of the device’s speakers.  Carmilla gritted her teeth; this must have been recorded during her earlier interrogation.  “Still,” Cambell continued, “she’s taken more punishment than the last two men we’ve brought in. Your daughter is durable, if nothing else.”

            Carmilla’s blood froze in her veins.

            “Resume the interrogation once she regains consciousness,” Carmilla’s mother’s voice replied.  She must have been in the other room while Cambell was conducting the interrogation. “Having her sign the confession isn’t vital, but it could come in handy.  This must be handled carefully.”

            “Indeed,”Cambell’s voice replied.  “The assassination of an Emperor is not a trivial matter… but it was necessary.  This city needs strong leadership; someone to guide the weak.  And that,” the voice said proudly, “Is where we come in.”  There was a pause in the recording.  “Your daughter almost destroyed our plans, but it turned out well.  She was in the wrong place at exactly the right time.”  The recording ended; the audiograph player shut off with a soft click.  Carmilla wasn’t sure how long she stood staring at the machine.  Her heart pounded; rage boiled within her the likes of which she’d never felt before.  At some point the machine ended up smashed against the far wall; Carmilla thought she must have thrown it.  It didn’t matter.  Her mother was the one who’d hired the assassins.  Her mother had betrayed them all.  Her mother had killed Emperor Hollis, and framed Carmilla for murder.

            Her mother had taken Laura away from her.

            Spurred to action, Carmilla pocketed the explosive and crossed back through the interrogation room.  She needed to go through the prison yard in order to reach the main gate, the entrance to which lay across from Carmilla’s current position.  Cracking open the interrogation room door, Carmilla slipped gap and crept down the narrow prison corridor and headed to the yard.  There were only two guards on duty, despite the yard’s size.  They paced back and forth sporadically, clearly bored with standing watch over nothing but weeds and empty hound crates.  Carmilla didn’t even need to kill anyone.  She simply snuck around the edge of the yard, a shadow among shadows, and climbed the steps leading to the entrance hall.

            Unlike the rest of the prison, which was crafted almost entirely from cold steel and grey stone, someone had at least TRIED to make the entrance hall look presentable.  The floor was tile instead of slate, and the walls were painted a shade of off- white that failed to make the hall look any less depressing.  A single guard patrolled its length, but Carmilla knew that there would be others in the gate control rooms to the left.  Instead of drawing attention to herself by taking on the guard, Carmilla crept over to the massive pipes that clung to the right- side wall and started to climb.  The guards in the control room were too busy to notice her; Carmilla could see them chatting and smoking through the thick glass windows.  She was almost relieved at the lack of proper protocol.  It made her escape that much easier.

            The pipes ran over the Inner Gate through a gap just below the ceiling; as Carmilla squeezed through the space she could finally see her destination.  The Outer Wall dwarfed its inner counterpart, and the massive bolts holding it in place made Carmilla nervous.  Would the small clockwork explosive be enough?  It would have to be.  Carmilla had made it this far.  She didn’t intend to fail now.  There were only two guards stationed between the gates; Carmilla dropped down behind the first as quietly as possible, impaling the man on her sword as she fell.  There was no time for subtlety, not when she was this close.  The second guard saw her and yelled for backup, drawing his sword to fight.  Carmilla shot him through the chest.  She could hear gears screaming behind her as the inner gate began to open; she had to move fast.  Carmilla raced to the outer gate and set the charge.  With a soft click, it began to count down.

            From 4

_Well shit_

Carmilla dove into a nearby dumpster, closing the lid behind her.

            3

            The inner gate was open; Carmilla could hear yelling.

            2

            They were checking on one of the guards that Carmilla had killed.  Like it would make a difference.

            1

            One of the guards noticed the bomb.  A moment too late.

            Even inside her hiding place, the explosion still shook Carmilla to the bone.  Opening the lid, she saw that the outer gate was blown completely open, the guards who had pursued her thrown back against the wall.  The bomb was more powerful than she expected.  For the first time in six months, Carmilla could see the outside world.  She crawled out of the dumpster and ran out through the destroyed gate.  The drawbridge was retracted back into itself; where it would normally be there was only a ledge overlooking one of the city’s many canals.  On the other side of the waterway she could see a large sewer entrance.

_Looks like I’ll be going for a swim, then_ _._

Carmilla heard motion behind her; turning, she saw a squad of guards fanning out to cut off any routes back into the prison.  It was clear that they expected her to try and fight her way back to the drawbridge controls.  The idiots.

            “Give my regards to the Lord Regent!”  Carmilla called, giving the guards a cheeky wave.  Then she turned and leapt over the edge, diving down towards the murky water below.

            Hitting the canal felt like a slap to the face.  Carmilla shrugged of the initial shock and swam for the shore.  A few stray bullets whizzed past, but none so much as grazed her.  Carmilla reached land and dashed to the sewer entrance; the rusty iron gate gave way easily after a solid kick.  Wrinkling her nose a bit at the smell, Carmilla descended into the dark, twisted passages of the Dunwall sewers.  The air was thick and pungent; darkness clung to the walls like a miasma.  Carmilla was forced to feel her way along the dim corridors as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the murky green glow that illuminated her path (or at least tried to).  It wasn’t long before the entrance to one of the caged off control hubs blocked Carmilla’s path.  Luckily, there was a space between the metal bars and the tunnel ceiling; someone- presumably Carmilla’s mysterious new friend- had stacked enough crates near the door for Carmilla to climb up to the top of the cage with ease.  Attached to the crates was another note, along with a simple hand drawn map of the local sewer system.

**Carmilla,**

**If you’re reading this, it means our plan was a resounding success, and you’ve broken free of your confinement in Coldridge.  One of our esteemed contacts has hidden weapons for you deeper within the sewer; follow the map we’ve provided to reach it.  Grab this gear and find our man Wilson where these tunnels dump out into the river.  He will bring you to us.**

**A friend who will meet you soon**

            Carmilla looked at the map; it was simple, but it conveyed direction well.  She’d trusted the first note because she had no other options, and it had gotten her out of prison in one piece.  But now that she was out… What was stopping her from disappearing into the sewers on her own?  She knew very little of her mysterious benefactor, and experience had taught her to never trust so easily.  Still, some better weapons would suit her well, and while Carmilla was sure she could stay hidden in the sewers, tracking down the princess on her own would be a challenge.  She would follow the map for the time being, but only until she could get a better grasp of her benefactor’s intentions.  Until then, she’d be ready to vanish at a moment’s notice.  Carmilla hoisted herself onto the crates and over to the top of the cage, shuffling through the crawl space between the bars and the tunnel ceiling.

  “… Used some kind of explosive to blast her way out.  That doesn’t happen by accident.”

            Carmilla stilled against the top of the cage; she could hear voices further ahead.  Probably soldiers sent from Coldridge.  With any luck, they’d just pass below her.

            “You think she had help?  Who’d know how to do that?”

            Carmilla could see them now; a pair of guards, one older, one younger.  Probably a rookie.

            “Bottle Street gang probably.  Watch for booby traps; there’s some down here from the look of it.”

            “Good,” the older guard replied.  “If we’re lucky, one of them will get Karnstein”

            The young guard laughed.  “You’re afraid of her?  She’s Serkonan.  It’s all merchants and whores down there.”  Carmilla grimaced.  If she had a coin for every jab at her heritage she’d heard since she was brought to this city, she’d be as wealthy as the royal family.  Maybe wealthier.

            The older guard wasn’t amused.  “Kids like you… you never saw what she was like.  I’ve seen her in the practice yard; she used to-“The guard stopped.  “Do you hear that?”

            In the silence that followed, Carmilla could hear it too.  The skittering and scratching of thousands of claws against stone.  The guards turned to run, but it was already too late.  The tunnel walls seemed to come alive as rats poured from every crack and crevasse, a writhing mass of tails and fur and teeth.  The guards screamed as the swarm overtook them; Carmilla shut her eyes, unwilling to watch.  The scratching and screaming seemed to go on forever.  Only when the tunnel was finally silent once more did Carmilla dare open her eyes.    The guards were gone; all that remained were bloody bones and a few scraps of cloth.

            Carmilla was very glad she hadn’t tried to go through the cage.

            The edge was only a few meters away; Carmilla dropped down and continued through the sewers.  Eventually the tunnels and passages were replaced by murky green canals; Carmilla dove in without hesitation.  She’d have time to clean herself up properly once Laura was safe.    Carmilla swam through the putrid currents, coming up for air once she reached the next caged- off waypoint.  The gate was closed, and a corpse obstructed the crank that opened it; Carmilla shifted the body aside, trying not to look at it.  Images of the Emperor’s corpse flashed through her mind.  She continued through the grim tunnels, avoiding the occasional booby traps presumably set by one of the city’s many gangs.  They were fairly simple; metal tripwires linked up to explosive bolt launchers.  Carmilla disabled them with ease, and even managed to salvage a few explosives from the devices.  It was when she reached the third control hub that Carmilla found what she was looking for; a large chest with a handwritten note attached.

            **Greetings, Carmilla.  Or perhaps Lord Protector, as you were known before that title was wrongfully taken from you.  We are servants of the Empire and the murdered emperor’s lineage, a group of Loyalists who want very much to meet you.  Take these weapons, crafted from the finest materials in the Empire, and meet with our man Wilson.  He’ll be where these tunnels spill out into the Wrenhaven River.**

**All haste and good luck, we share a common purpose.**

            Pocketing the note, Carmilla investigated the chest; it seemed safe enough, no traps or suspicious wires attached.   Satisfied that she wasn’t about to be blown apart, Carmilla opened the chest to inspect its contents.  The first thing she found was a bundle of clean clothes, which she quickly changed into; her prison uniform was still soaked from her earlier dip in the sewage.  Carmilla’s new supposed allies had sent her one of her old uniform, a bit loose from her time in Coldridge, but still comforting to wear after all these months.  The next thing she found was a mechanized crossbow, along with a selection of missiles; regular spikes, explosive bolts, and a couple darts filled with some sort of green compound.  The label on the case read ‘Sleep Darts’.  Carmilla tossed her stolen pistol aside and armed the crossbow.  It’d be much easier to sneak around with a silent weapon.  Only one thing was left in the chest; at first glance, it looked like the hilt of a sword with no blade.  Carmilla recognized it as an adaptation of the concealed blades that her mother’s agent used.  With a practiced twirl the sword the sword snapped out to its full length in Carmilla’s grasp.  She took a moment to admire the exquisite craftsmanship; the blade was definitely better balanced than her stolen sword.  Carmilla retracted the segmented steel blade with a flick of her wrist and strapped the device to her belt. She felt a bit less naked with a proper uniform and weapons.

            The presence of the chest and supplies had served to subdue some of Carmilla’s concerns; she’d been prepared for this whole thing to be some sort of cruel joke, a trap set by her mother as one final insult.  Thus far, it seemed, her mysterious benefactors had a genuine interest in helping her.  But that still didn’t mean that they had the same goal.  The supplies had earned her unknown allies a meeting; once she understood their intentions, she’d decide whether their interests truly aligned.  If not… well, she would have to search for Laura on her own.   Carmilla unlocked the waystation gate with a key found in the pocket of her coat and advanced further into the sewers.  She slipped under a couple of tripwires with ease; they were little more than annoyances at this point.  However, a soft orange glow from further along the tunnels stopped her in her tracks.  Carmilla glued her back to the wall, inching forward with sword and crossbow in hand.  Peeking around the corner, she saw that the path opened into a wide natural tunnel; on the far side of the space, a massive scaffold led to an elevated section of sewer.  In front of her, the remains of a fire cast a dim glow on the cavern walls.  It seemed Carmilla had stumbled on the remains of a homeless camp.  The bodies slumped around the shrinking flame confirmed Carmilla’s suspicions.  These people had died of the plague.

_Poor bastards_

Carmilla cut a wide path around the macabre sight, making sure to steer clear of the corpses.  There was still no definitive word on how the plague spread, aside from direct rat bites, and Carmilla couldn’t afford to take any chances. If she succumbed to the plague, she’d never be able to save Laura.  Carmilla needed to reach the elevated tunnels to get to the surface, the entrance to which sat roughly 30 feet overhead.  Luckily, a hanging chain provided a perfect path.  Carmilla climbed slowly, keeping the chain as steady as possible.  There would be more guards.  There had to be.  Her execution was planned as a public spectacle, with all of Dunwall’s most important nobles and wealthy industrialists in attendance to watch the former Lord Protector lose her head.  Letting her get away on the eve of the event would make the City watch look like fools.  So she kept her ears open, constantly vigilant, taking in every stray sound and painting a vivid portrait of the tunnels.  She heard nothing. Carmilla climbed to the top of the chain, confident that she was alone; the leap into the tunnels was made with ease. She could tell she was close to the surface: Carmilla could hear the emergency broadcast being played across the city streets

**ATTENTION DUNWALL CITIZENS**

**THE ASSASSIN CARMILLA KARNSTEIN, RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATH OF OUR NOBLE EMPEROR AND THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HIS HEIR, HAS TEMPORARILY ESCAPED CUSTODY.  SHE IS ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. ANY SIGHTINGS SHOULD BE REPORTED DIRECTLY TO THE CITY WATCH.**

            The guards certainly hadn’t wasted any time getting the word out.  She needed to move fast.  Carmilla followed the faintest threads of fresh air through the dank tunnels until she reached a hatch in the floor.  She could hear an argument from below; guards from the sound of it.

            They must be guarding the exit I’m looking for

            “She won’t get past me, sir,” The first voice said.  The speaker sounded young. And stupid, if he thought he was enough to stop Carmilla.

            “Are you crazy?”  The second voice said, apparently agreeing with Carmilla.  “Don’t you know who we’re hunting here?  Don’t try to take her on alone.”

            “But what if no one from the squad is around?”

            A third voice laughed.  “Then try to make a lotta noise when you die! Knock something over if you can!” The voices faded as the speakers moved away.  Peering through the hatch, Carmilla saw that a natural cavern lay below; a series of rocky outcroppings allowed her to drop down quietly into the open space.  The younger guard stood nearby, warming his hands by a fire.  For all his earlier bravado, he never once turned around as Carmilla snuck past him.  The cave was massive. Time and tide had worn had worn it into a circle surrounding a massive natural pillar.  Half of the space was flooded with putrid water, and damp permeated every inch of the stone.  Worn metal pipes snaked through the air and along the walls like metal serpents, carrying sewage out of the city.  A squad of miserable- looking guards paced the center of the room, desperately trying to peer through the darkness.  At the far side of the cave, another tunnel sloped upwards; Carmilla thought she could see sunlight streaming in from above.

            She was almost out.

            Mimicking the trick that got her out of Coldridge, Carmilla climbed the pipes that stretched through the cave. In her experience, regular watchmen rarely looked up.  Carmilla’s soft footsteps carried her across the room safely; the guards never glanced in her direction.  They were too busy pacing, or staring blankly at the putrid water as if they expected her to come up for air at any minute.  Carmilla dropped from the pipe, crawling over fallen debris to the tunnel.  When she reached the exit, she allowed herself a rare moment of celebration, turning back towards the cave.

            Her breath caught in her throat as Carmilla made eye contact with a lone guard, staring directly at her.

_SHIT_

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl.  The guard moved to turn around. Carmilla whipped out her crossbow, not sure what kind of bolt was loaded.  The guard opened his mouth. Carmilla took aim.

            “She’s-!”

            That was as far as the man got before Carmilla’s bolt found its mark, digging into the side of his throat.  The guard wavered in place before tipping forward onto the cold ground.  Carmilla turned and ran, barely noticing the transport passing loudly over her head.  She had to move.

            Carmilla raced through the slowly widening tunnel to the exit, which opened into a small cove.  A motor boat sat ready in the murky water, crewed by a disheveled- looking young man with short brown hair; when he saw Carmilla coming he jumped up and waved frantically.

            “Over here!”

            Carmilla ran for the small craft, not bothering to look back.  She didn’t have to.   She could hear the guards closing in behind her.  She made a running leap into the boat, causing it to rock dangerously.

            “You must be-“

            Carmilla cut the young man off.  “Move!”  She yelled. “We’ll have time for introductions later!”  The man seemed to understand; he gunned the engine and the boat sped away, leaving behind the cove and an angry group of guards.

            Carmilla collapsed into one of the seats, her adrenaline rush slipping away; she felt exhausted.  The young man – Wilson, presumably looked back at her, grinning in excitement.

            “So, you must be Carmilla!”

            Carmilla laughed, exhausted.

            “Must I be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	3. Old friends, New friends, Strange Friends

             Carmilla was quiet as the small craft slid across the Wren haven River. The boatman, Wilson- _“_ _Kirsch”¸_ _he’d said,_ _“Just call me Kirsch.  Everyone does”_ _-_ had done enough talking for the both of them.

             “They said you’d come out back there, but I could still hardly believe my eyes when you did,” he rambled on, slowly guiding the boat closer to the shore.  “We’re almost there; it’s just downriver from here.”  Wherever these people were, it was certainly well- hidden.  Carmilla had been watching for it, and all she saw was abandoned house after abandoned house.  This district was one of the first to be quarantined after the outbreak of the plague, a section of the city long deserted.  Even the watch refused to patrol here, terrified of lingering weepers and vicious rats.  If you were trying to hide a conspiracy, this was probably the place to do it.

              As they passed a crumbling tower, Kirsch pulled the boat into a makeshift dock and killed the engine.  He tied the boat up with experienced hands before practically dragging Carmilla up a flight of stone steps and through a derelict metal gate.  “Welcome to the Hound Pits Pub!”  Kirsch exclaimed with a dramatic flourish towards the dull brownstone building that stood before them.  “We’re right under the Lord Regent’s nose- and the best part is, she doesn’t have a clue!”  Carmilla took a few seconds to examine the area.  The bar was surrounded by desolation and debris; to the casual observer, it would look as empty as the ruined block it was part of.  But up close, Carmilla’s keen senses were able to pick up on the telltale signs of occupation.  The rustling of shutters on a windless day, the too- clean windows that stood out from the dust and degradation. There were even faint sounds of machinery coming from behind an adjacent building’s closed metal shutters.  The Hound Pits Pub was far from abandoned.

              “I’ll take you in to meet the admiral and the rest of them,” Kirsch said, pointing towards the pub door.  “The admiral is a great man; if anyone can help you, it’s him.  In fact,” he continued, ever- present grin growing wider, “I believe you already know him.”  He was probably right; between her duties as Lord- Protector and the time she’d spent as one of her Mother’s agents, Carmilla had met just about every person of importance in the city.  But the way Kirsch had phrased it… It felt like there was some sort of joke that Carmilla had missed.  Shaking the sensation off, Carmilla entered the bar.  The interior was dimly lit, and mostly empty.  On the far side of the room, two figures stood in the darkness, speaking softly to one another.

“To be honest, Admiral, I still cannot believe the reports we’ve gotten,” the first figure mused.  The man sounded old, and exceedingly arrogant. “Six months in Coldridge, and the girl slips away without a-“

            “That girl,” the Admiral interjected, sounding annoyed (and somewhat familiar…), “Is likely the most dangerous woman in this city.  I suggest you remember that.”  The admiral turned at the sound of Carmilla’s footsteps, stepping out of the darkness when he saw her.  “We can finish this discussion later, Baron,” said Admiral William Luce, a weary smile spreading across his face.  “It appears my sister has finally arrived.”

           

            “Will?!?” Carmilla exclaimed, rushing to embrace her brother.  Only a few years her senior, Will was the Lord Regent’s biological son, and the youngest Admiral in the history of Gristol’s navy.  He was a stark contrast to their mother; where her feigned politeness hid an icy interior, Will was kind behind a veneer of sarcasm and quips.  Carmilla didn’t think she’d have made it this far if her adopted brother hadn’t been there to pick her back up when she lay broken and battered beneath Mother’s heel.  But he was still the last person she’d expect to be leading a coup.

            “It’s good to see you too, Kitty,” Will replied, stepping back to look Carmilla over.  She grimaced. That nickname never failed to irk her.  “I suppose some introductions are in order,” Will continued, gesturing to the man beside him; a well-dressed, elderly figure whose frail demeanor almost masked the cunning in his eyes.  “This is Baron Vordenberg, acting member of Parliament and representative of the nobility amongst our little group.  Although,” he added, giving the baron a pointed look, “We’re all equals here at the Hound Pits Pub.”  The Baron nodded before moving to shake Carmilla’s hand.

            “A pleasure to formally meet you, Ms. Karnstein,” the old man said.  His grip was surprisingly strong.  “We’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

            “Likewise.”  Carmilla remembered the baron from when Laura had sat in on Parliament; he was loud, dismissive, and generally disliked by the other members.  But in times like these, Carmilla would take whatever allies she could get.

            “You’re probably tired after everything that’s happened,” Will said, “So I’ll get straight to the point.  For the last couple months, our group has been working to overthrow mo… the Lord Regent, and track down the rightful heir to the throne.  Our sources have confirmed that she’s alive, but we’ve yet to pinpoint her exact location.”  Carmilla felt her heart skip a beat- or maybe take one beat too many.  She wasn’t sure.  “For now, you should get some sleep.  Tomorrow I’ll explain the rest of our plan, and introduce you to the others.  I believe our resident engineer has some ideas they want to run by you.”  That must be the person who prepared the clockwork explosive.  In any other situation Carmilla would’ve demanded a better explanation, but her escape was beginning to catch up with her.  She could feel exhaustion seeping into her limbs and eyelids; at this rate, Carmilla wouldn’t be surprised if she passed out in the middle of the bar.  For now, a chance to rest sounded perfect.

            “Fine.  But when I wake up, I expect a proper explanation.”  Carmilla looked over at Will.  “Especially from you.”

            Will nodded.  “Perry will show you to your room,” he replied, motioning to a red- haired woman who Carmilla recognized as one of the servant from Dunwall Tower.  She must have entered while they were talking.  Carmilla bid her brother and the Baron farewell before following Perry up a wide set of stairs.  The pair climbed in silence; Perry seemed too nervous to talk, and Carmilla was in no mood for conversation.  She had too many unanswered questions twisting their way through her mind.  Who else was involved with this conspiracy?  How did they know what happened to Laura?  And what could have happened to make Will start a damn coup?

            Carmilla’s thoughts were interrupted when the pair reached her room.  It was large and sparsely furnished, with a bed, dresser, and desk occupying the nearest corner.  A couple sheet- covered chairs sat against the far wall, and Carmilla saw a couple dusty stacks of books strewn throughout the place.  Out one of the windows, a bridge made of scrap metal and junk connected Carmilla’s room to the ruined tower that lay next to the river.

            “Here we are!”  Perry exclaimed.  “I know it’s not much, and thing’s aren’t exactly… neat, but Natalie and I tried our best to-“

            Carmilla cut her off.  “Trust me, Ginger snap, compared to Coldridge this place is like being back in the Tower.”  She flopped onto the bed, not bothering to change or remove her boots before shutting her eyes.  Carmilla heard Perry scurry away, glad that she hadn’t tried to continue the conversation.  She was exhausted.  In prison, it had taken ages for Carmilla to fall asleep; after everything that had happened, she could feel the world drifting away in a matter of seconds.

* * *

 

As soon as Carmilla woke, she could tell that something was wrong.  An unearthly blue light filtered through the closed windows, and the sounds from the bar downstairs were gone.  No bustle of movement from the floors below, no quiet lapping of water on the shore; even the seabirds were silent.  Carmilla stood and went to her door to find that the rest of the world had crumbled away, leaving nothing but a pale blue void.

_I must be dreaming._

The void wasn’t completely empty; a massive chunk of rock floated next to Carmilla’s door, with a thin, tiled path spiraling up towards the top.  Carmilla tested the tiles first, before following the path up towards the rock’s flat surface.  It’s not like she had many other options, after all.  The rock appeared to have been pulled out of the earth itself; Carmilla passed several protruding pipes as she climbed.  The water that streamed from the pipes flowed upwards, however, blatantly disregarding silly things like gravity.  As Carmilla reached the top of the stone- a surface which looked for all the world like it had been torn from one of Dunwall’s streets, complete with cobbled tile and a broken lamppost- she couldn’t help but stare in awe.  What she’d thought was an empty void was full of massive chunks of floating earth, and rivers of water surging relentlessly skyward.  Carmilla could see entire buildings and rooms floating in the nothing, Figures too small to make out seemingly frozen in place.  And in the center of it all…

_Is that an anglerfish?_

The air beside Carmilla began to distort; she jumped back in surprise as it twisted itself into the shape of a man.  He wore all brown, from his jacket to his pants, and his jet- black hair was cut short. The man’s face was pale and cunning, his mouth twisted into a permanent smirk.  His eyes were entirely black, like coal.

            “Hello, Carmilla.”  The man’s voice was soft, yet it seemed to echo endlessly through the void.  “Your life has taken a turn, has it not?”  Carmilla didn’t move.  Whatever was happening, it definitely wasn’t a dream.  She wasn’t sure who the stranger was, but every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run.  To hide herself away in a dark corner and pray never to be found.  “The Emperor is dead,” the stranger continued, “His precious daughter is hidden away somewhere in the city, and you will play a pivotal role in the days to come.  For this I have chosen you, and drawn you into the void.”

“Who the frilly hell are you?” Carmilla demanded, finally finding her voice.  She reached for her sword, but grasped only empty air; her weapons had vanished.  The man laughed.

            “I am the Outsider, and this is my mark.”

Carmilla screamed as her left hand burned, falling to her knees from pain.  However, there was no heat or flame.  Instead, her hand glowed as a symbol appeared, concentric circles and jagged lines etching themselves into her flesh.  Only when the pain stopped was Carmilla finally able to process what she’d just heard.  The Outsider.  The primordial god of the void, who whispered in the dream of men.  The all- powerful boogeyman that the Abbey of the Everyman touted out to scare children into reciting the scriptures. The beginning and end of all mischief in the world.  Was floating in front of Carmilla, smirking.

Carmilla wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.  Probably both.

“What… What do you want from me?”  Carmilla asked.

“Want from you?” the Outsider replied, dramatically feigning ignorance.  “On the contrary. There are forces within and beyond this world, great forces that men call magic.  And now, these forces will serve your will.”  With a wave of the Outsider’s hand the Void began to re- arrange itself, chunks of earth coming together into a floating path.” Use this newfound power, my gift to you.  Come and find me.”  And with that, the Outsider vanished.

Carmilla wasn’t sure what to think.  What did the Outsider- arguably the most powerful being in existence- want with her?  And what did he mean by magic?  Carmilla put those questions aside for the moment; she had to get out of this place. The first floating island was several meters away; atop it sat a perfect replica of the Dunwall Tower Gazebo.  Carmilla couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her.  After what happened, she’d tried to think about the gazebo as little as possible.  But it looked like this was the only way forward.  Carmilla examined the gap; there was no way that she’d be able to jump the distance.  She tried to focus on the destination, considering her options.  There had to be something that she’d missed. Maybe-

Carmilla’s thoughts were interrupted as the world flickered around her; with a soft puff of smoke, she’d crossed the gap to the Gazebo without even breaking a sweat.  The effect was disorienting; Carmilla tipped to the side, leaning against one of the Gazebo columns for support.  She felt drained, like someone was hollowing her out from the inside.  Whatever the hell she just did, Carmilla didn’t think she’d be able to do it many more times without rest.  Pushing herself off of the pillar, Carmilla advanced into the Gazebo.  What she saw made her want to vomit.  The bodies of Lady Spielsdorf and the Emperor were sprawled out before her, drenched in blood.  The Emperor’s chest had been torn open, and he had a note clenched in his hand.  Carmilla didn’t need to pick it up to read it.

**YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM**

As if she hadn’t told herself that a thousand times over.

On the other side of the Gazebo floated another chunk of earth; Carmilla couldn’t see the top, so she focused on the very edge of the surface.  Just as before, she vanished in a puff of black smoke, reappearing instantly at the top of the new island.  Fatigue hit Carmilla like a truck; she fell to her knees, eyes closed from exhaustion.  She needed a rest.  When she was finally able to stand, Carmilla was able to take in the scene before her.  She stood on the edge of a single large room, with three walls cut away to reveal the scene within.  The remaining wall was covered with garish pink and red wallpaper, along with several portraits of women that Carmilla didn’t recognize.  The furniture was just as ugly as the wallpaper, someone’s failed attempt at making the room look posh and fancy.  Three figured occupied the center of the room, frozen in time like statues.

One of them was Laura.

Carmilla ran to embrace the princess’s still form, flinging her arms around the figure and letting go of tears that she’d held in for months.  She knew this wasn’t the real Laura; the familiar light in the princess’s eyes was gone.  But after Coldridge, even this was more than Carmilla had dreamed possible.  Carmilla stayed there for a while, letting the tears flow from her eyes.  She had to let them out now, so that she could be strong for the real princess once she found her.  Only when the tears had finally dried up did Carmilla finally get a good look at the other two figures.  They were two men, identical twins dressed like wealthy nobles; their pinched, cruel faces somewhat ruined the effect, however.  One sat on the couch, caught halfway through combing his short, greasy hair; the other had grabbed Laura’s arm, frozen in the act of trying to grab something away from her.  In the space between them floated a glass bottle, tossed aside in the scuffle; a handwritten note lay within. Carmilla pried out the note, hands trembling as she unfolded it.

**Carm,**

**I don’t know where they’re keeping me or how long I’ve been here.  There’s laughter below; I screamed my voice away, but no one came.  They told me you were dead, that you’d been executed, but I don’t believe them.  I know you’ll come.**

**I’m scared, Carm.**

The words broke Carmilla’s heart.  Laura was suffering, and it was all Carmilla’s fault.  She hadn’t been able to protect her.

“An interesting message, wouldn’t you agree?”

Carmilla whirled to face the Outsider, floating a couple of meters behind her.  “I found it floating in the river; she must have tried very hard to get it to you.”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, YOU BLACK- EYED BASTARD?!?!?” Carmilla screamed, gesturing wildly. “WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS THIS? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?!?”  Carmilla fell to her knees as she finished her tirade, physically and mentally exhausted by her time in the Void.

“Do to you?” The outsider replied, amused.  “I did exactly as I said. I’ve given you powers beyond mortal men. What you’ll do with them is up to you- and this power is only the beginning.”  The Outsider waved his hand and an image appeared between them, a carved piece of whale bone etched with an all- too familiar symbol.  “In the days that follow, your trials will be great,” the Outsider continued.  “Seek out the ancient runes bearing my mark, lost in the forgotten places of the world, and bring them to the shrines built in my honor.  In return I will grant you new, greater powers.”

“I don’t have the time to hunt down your trinkets,” Carmilla snapped.  She was tired of the Outsider’s games.

“To help you find them,” the Outsider went on, ignoring Carmilla’s irritation, “I will give you this.  The heart of a living thing, molded by my hand.”  What appeared between them made Carmilla shudder.  It was a human heart, stuck through with wires and metal gears, with a glass panel revealing more infernal machinery within.  The heart appeared still, but as Carmilla reached out to grasp it, she heard its constant beating in her inner ear, neither truly human nor purely mechanical.  It made her sick.  The heart disappeared as Carmilla held it, but the sound remained, beating inexorably.

“With this heart, you will hear many secrets, and it will lead you to my runes- no matter how they may be hidden.”  The Outsider gestured grandly at the path before them.  “Listen to the heart now, and let it guide you.”  And with that he vanished, leaving behind nothing but an EXTREMELY ticked off Lord Protector.

_I’m going to kill him.  I don’t care if he’s a god; he dragged me off to wherever the hell this is, gave me a fucked- up human heart of all things, and expects me to navigate his godamn obstacle course.  I will find SOME way to kill him._

Still grumbling under her breath, Carmilla resumed her advance, casting one last look at the frozen figures before continuing through a stone arch and up a set of crumbling stairs.  As she walked, Carmilla could hear the heartbeat in her ears speeding up.  Whatever these runes were, she must be getting closer to one.  Up ahead, the path gave way to a cliff overlooking the void; peering over the edge, Carmilla could see a massive tower floating on its side in the emptiness.  It looked decrepit, but when Carmilla dropped down to land on its surface she found it was quite stable.  She slipped in through one of the shattered windows.  The floors- or would they be considered walls now? - had already rotted away, allowing Carmilla to climb up to the top of the tower with relative ease.  The beating in her ears grew louder with every step.  Carmilla dropped out of the tower through another broken window, landing on a strangely bare chunk of earth.  Three paths forward stretched out before her, but only one made the Heart beat any faster, so it was a fairly easy choice.  Carmilla traversed the path as quickly as possible, jumping the smaller gaps and using her newfound powers to blink across larger distances.  She was slowly adjusting to the skill, able to repeatedly blink across small gaps without feeling too much fatigue.  Larger distances still left her dazed, however.

At the end of the trail, atop a much larger island, Carmilla found what she assumed was one of the shrines the Outsider had mentioned.  A primal collection of whalebone spikes and cloth, the shrine was built around a simple wooden altar adorned with a single rune.  As Carmilla reached out to grasp it, the beating in her ears abruptly ceased.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  The Outsider’s voice chimed in from behind her.  Carmilla groaned and turned to face him, holding out the rune.  It vanished in a puff of smoke.

“There; I found your stupid rune.  Now what?”

“Now,” the Outsider replied, “I return you to your world.  Rest well, Lord Protector.  You’re going to be very busy.”

 _Asshole_ , Carmilla thought.  Then the world faded away to darkness, and she thought no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	4. Explanations and Explosions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between chapters! I'll try and keep putting them out as fast as possible, but with college happening now I make no promises regarding release dates. Also; I think I'm going to go back and edit my earlier chapters while posting new ones; if you see minor differences, you aren't going insane. Probably.

_8- year old Mircalla shielded her face from the ocean’s spray, staring morosely over the water at the city slowly rising on the horizon. The voyage from Serkonos to Dunwall had taken weeks, and she’d spent half of it hoping a sudden storm would destroy their ship beyond repair.  She missed the other wards, and hated the sea’s foul smell and constant rocking.  She was miserable.  Behind her the deck was full of commotion, as sailors scurried across the wooden planks preparing to dock their ship.  According to the Captain, they’d arrive in mere minutes._

_Mircalla’s first impressions of Dunwall were far from flattering.  The port was chaotic and messy, and smelled of sweat and rotten fish even worse than the ship.    Sailor, soldiers, and fishermen clogged the docks, and even with an armed escort the Serkonan envoys were only able to make slow progress.  Mircalla trailed behind them, trying to avoid being stepped on.  The noise was giving her a headache.  A line of mechanized carriages sat near the port entrance, waiting to take the envoys to Dunwall tower.  Mircalla ended up in the last carriage along with the Head Diplomat, a fat, balding man sweating buckets through his resplendent silk robes.  He reached out to pat her head, mistaking her expression for fear.  “Worry not, child,” he said, his voice higher than his stature would suggest.  “We’re almost there.”_

_Mircalla hated him.  All of this was his fault._

_Dunwall Tower was a bit more impressive than the port had been; it was far quieter, at least.  The envoys were forced to wait outside one of the tower’s many conference rooms for at least an hour; from what Mircalla could gather, they weren’t the only ones here for negotiations.  She passed the time watching the Tower gardens through an open window.  Servants came and went, patrols passed in practiced lockstep.  At one point a little girl in white ran through the garden laughing, with a flustered looking servant on her heels.  Mircalla envied her carefree smile.  After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the delegation was finally allowed into the massive conference room.  There was only one other person inside, a thin, dark haired woman with sharp features.  She was smiling, but Mircalla was certain that she noticed some of the younger envoys shuddering.  She wasn’t quite sure what to think of her._

_“I apologize for making you wait, Ambassador,” the woman said, extending her hand in greeting.  The Head Diplomat accepted it gingerly; he was sweating even more than earlier, despite the Tower’s cool interior._

_“Not at all, Lady Morgan,” the Head diplomat replied.  He sounded cheerful, but Mircalla caught the hesitation in his voice.  “It’s an honor to be able to meet with Gristol’s renowned Spymaster.”  That got Mircalla’s attention.  She loved stories about spies; there were many in the Duke’s extensive library, and she’d read them all.  She was a better reader than any of the other wards.  The discussions went on for ages; Mircalla could follow some of it, but she didn’t especially care.  It was all trade agreements and taxes.  Mircalla’s mood grew progressively worse as the talks went on.  She knew what was coming._

_And lastly,” The head Diplomat finished, motioning for Mircalla to stand, “as thanks to Lady Morgan for facilitating these discussions, we’d like to present one of the Duke of Serkanos’ finest wards. Mircalla here is a genius; only 8 years old, and she’s already distinguished herself.” Mircalla couldn’t help but blush. She kept her eyes on the floor._

_“I see,” The Spymaster replied, moving to crouch in front of Mircalla. She looked up tentatively; the Spymaster was still smiling. But there was something wrong. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What happened to your parents, little one?”_

_“… They’re gone,” Mircalla mumbled._

_“The girls’ father was a Count,” the head Diplomat clarified. “He and his wife passed away in an accident several years ago; Mircalla has been one of the Duke's wards ever since.”_

_“How very tragic…” The Spymaster stood to face the diplomats. “I believe that concludes our meeting, gentlemen. We’ll be holding a banquet for you this evening; one of the servants will show you to your rooms.” The diplomats were quickly shown out. Once they were gone, Mircalla looked back up at the Spymaster._

_She wasn’t smiling anymore._

* * *

 

__

          Carmilla woke with a start.  Her room was back to normal; no more glowing lights or muted sounds.  She looked down at her left hand, desperately hoping that what happened was nothing more than a bad dream.  The mark of the Outsider stared back at her, as if daring her to deny its existence.  Grimacing, Carmilla turned her attention to a window on the far wall; with a soft puff of blank smoke she blinked from her bed to the other side of the room. 

_Definitely not a dream then… Or maybe it was? I’m not sure how these things work._

          As irritating as the Outsider was, the power he’d given her would be useful.  But she’d have to keep it secret.  The Abbey of the Everyman denounced magic (and anything associated with the Outsider, really).  If anyone found out about the mark, she’d likely end up dead, powers or not.  She had to be careful, even around her allies.  For now her gloves would hide the physical evidence.  That being said, using her powers around the pub would be a VERY bad idea.

          Gloves on, Carmilla walked down to the bar, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.  She hated mornings.  As before, the bar was basically empty; Will sat in one of the booths, sipping coffee over a collection of maps and files.  He looked up as Carmilla entered.  “Awake before noon, Kitty?”  he joked cheerfully.  “Coldridge must have changed you more than I thought.”  Carmilla was tempted to throw something at him- probably a bottle of some sort- but she refrained, if only to avoid damaging the maps.  Instead she slumped into the booth across from him.  Someone brought her a plate of food; she was too distracted to care who.  The pair sat in silence while Carmilla ate, Will continuing to study his maps.  They were covered in small notations, but Will’s handwriting was too messy for Carmilla to read upside down.  Once she finished eating, Will began to specifics of the Loyalist’s group.  Apparently, the group’s actual military power was pretty low; most of the city guard remained on their mother’s side.  They had nobles who were sympathetic to their goals, and a fair number of votes in Parliament, but not enough yet to outvote the Lord Regent’s faction.  From the sound of things, between bribes and political favors it had taken a huge chunk of their resources to engineer her escape. Carmilla had expected as much; there was no way a large organized resistance could exist without her Mother’s eyes reaching them.  Besides, she honestly didn’t need them.  She’d find Laura on her own if she had to; for now, however, working with her adopted brother seemed like the best option.

          “I almost forgot,” Will went on, looking up from the maps he’d been using as part of, “you should talk to our technician, LaFontaine.  They’re the one who designed the –“

          Will’s words were cut off by a massive explosion from outside the building.  Carmilla jumped at the noise, panicked, but Will hardly moved.

          “- clockwork explosive that got you out of Coldridge,” he finished, taking a sip of his coffee.

          “I take it that was her?”  Carmilla asked, still a little shaken.

          “Them,” Will corrected, “and yes.  You get used to it after a while.  Although… someone should check to see if they’re okay.”  Carmilla slumped down in the booth.  These Loyalists were more eccentric than she had expected.

          That reminded her…

          “What the hell happened, Will?”  Carmilla asked, leaning forward.  “All of this… sneaking around behind Mother’s back, conspiring with nobles for political power, treason… This isn’t like you.”

          “Technically, Mother was the one who committed treason,” Will fired back, but Carmilla could see the tiny cracks that appeared in his façade at the question.  She’d hit some sort of nerve.

          “I’m serious, Will,” Carmilla pressed on.  “6 months ago, you’d never have even considered any of this.  Yet here you are, starting your own little coup d'etat.  Something’s changed.”

          Will’s smile slipped a little bit further, showing some of the wear from the past six months.  “Honestly?” he started, after a few moments of silence.  “I wasn’t the one who started this.  I’m just filling the role; Matska was the progenitor of our little rebellion.”

          “Mattie’s here?”  Carmilla exclaimed, perking up immediately.  Older than either Carmilla or Will, Matska Belmonde was one of the Lord Regent’s most skilled agents. Charming and graceful, she had always  treated Will and Carmilla like family.  Whenever she returned from assignments she brought back grand tales of intrigue and espionage, tragic romance, and the fate of entire cities played out on her chessboard; as a child, Carmilla had idolized her.  Overall, a far more likely candidate for starting a coup.

          “Back when Mother was named Lord Regent,” Will continued, “I was off with the fleet; I only ever had secondhand accounts of the city’s condition.  Matska, however… she was right in the middle of it all, at Mother’s right hand.  She saw every condemned district, every citizen thrown aside to stop the plague’s advance, and she decided that the city would never survive.  So she called me back to Dunwall, used her contacts and favors to gather resources, and started her own little rebellion her in the Hound Pits Pub.”  Will took another sip of coffee.  “She even came up with the name ‘Loyalists’.  Loyal to the empire, and the old Emperor’s lineage.”  Will couldn’t help but laugh a little.  “Mattie always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

          “She’s… not here, is she,” Carmilla replied.  The past tense, the lack of Matska’s presence when Carmilla had arrived- the pieces fit together with painful ease.

          Will grimaced.  “Around 3 months ago, back when we first started planning your escape…. We still aren’t entirely sure what happened.  Most of us hid out in the pub, but Matska had to stay with Mother to avoid suspicion.  Maybe Mother realized… or maybe she just wanted to tie up a loose end.  Either way, Matska vanished without a trace a soon after.” Carmilla wished she was more surprised.  Mother was ruthless.  “I took over the group then, to keep it going,”  Will finished, “And we’ve been operating out of the pub ever since.”  The pair sat for a while in somber silence.  Carmilla thought she felt tears in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them back.  First Laura, now Mattie; Carmilla was running out of people to lose.

          “Enough about that,” Will said suddenly.  “We should go see LaFontaine.  They have some ideas they wanted to run by you- and after that explosion, I’d like to make sure they’re still in one piece.”  Carmilla followed him outside, not wanting to press the matter further.  She’d have time to mourn later.  The pair walked to a building adjacent to the pub; the metal shutters from the day before had been blown clean off.

          “-know what you were thinking!  You could’ve been killed!”

          “Relax, Perr.  It was- augh!- just an experiment!”

          “An experiment?!?  You call THIS an experiment?”

          Inside the building lay a makeshift workshop- or what had probably been a workshop, before it exploded.  Various machines had been tossed about, and a blast shield lay dented against a wall.  Perry stood in the corner, attempting to clean up a singed- looking engineer with short red hair.  They both jumped when Will and Carmilla entered, the engineer- Lafontaine, most likely- wincing in pain.

          “I understand the importance of your experiments, Lafontaine,” Will said stoically, “but we ARE trying to keep this place a secret.  Perhaps you could pursue some less… explosion- inducing research?”

          “Sorry,” Lafontaine apologized, wincing again when Perry dabbed at their forehead.  “I thought I could increase the electrical output of our whale- oil batteries, but I think the process need a little refinement.”  Carmilla paid little attention to the rest of the conversation, her eyes wandering the disheveled lab.  The force of the explosion had scattered tools and diagrams everywhere, but aside from Lafontaine themself nothing seemed badly damaged. Carmilla could tell from the frantic heartbeat in her ear that there was a rune somewhere in the workshop, but she didn’t see it among the wreckage; her attention was quickly captured by something else.  A skull- shaped mask thrown to the floor by the explosion, made of scrap metal and held together seemingly by wire and determination alone.  Lenses covered the eye sockets, and Carmilla could see clockwork and springs peeking out from within

          “You like it?” LaFontaine inquired, noticing Carmilla’s interest in the mask.  “After what happened yesterday, you won’t exactly be able to walk around the city normally. I figure when you are out there, this will make you a little less recognizable.”

          “And it’s shaped like a skull because…?”  Carmilla inquired, turning the mask over in her hand.  Lafontaine grinned.

          “Psychological effect.”

          Carmilla decided she liked Lafontaine.

 

* * *

 

          It was a week before Carmilla heard any more about the Loyalist’s mission.  She passed the time training, both her body and her newfound power.  Coldridge had dulled her senses more than she’d like to admit, and she needed to be at her best.  Carmilla made sure to limit Blinking to her own locked room, instantly crossing short distances with increasing ease; multiple consecutive jumps still exhausted her, however.    The Heart led Carmilla to three runes; two in the shallows of the river and one in a closet on the second floor of Lafontaine’s laboratory.  The natural Philosopher gave it up without much argument; to them it was little more than a trinket, after all.  Carmilla had worked with them to improve her equipment; a little extra range on the crossbow, some more padding in her uniform.  Little things, but potentially lifesaving none the less.  When Will finally came to see her, it was already late afternoon; Carmilla was sprawled across her bed reading one of the books she’d borrowed from the maids.  A surprising number of former servants maintained the pub, serving mostly as messengers on errands to the rest of the city.  The higher- profile Loyalists relied on them to maintain their anonymity. Some, like Perry, had come from Dunwall tower itself, while others had come from wealthy houses across the city.

          “Finally found a use for me, have you?”  Carmilla inquired, not looking up from her book.  Will closed the door behind him.

          “We may have a way to find the princess.”

           THAT got Carmilla’s attention.  She jolted upright, book all but forgotten.  “How?”

           “You remember the High Overseer, correct?”  Will began, sitting down at the desk.  Carmilla couldn’t help flinching; she remembered the Cambell all too well.  The chemical burns on her chest and back still ached.  “He may be a holy man,” Will remarked, “but he’s nearly as twisted as Mother.  At this point, the Dunwall chapter of the Abbey is essentially held together by his blackmail.”  Will paused.  “Apparently, he keeps a journal of secrets hidden on his person at all times.”

           “And you think that journal might hold Laura’s location,” Carmilla finished for him.  Will nodded.

           “You catch on as fast as ever, Kitty.  Cambell may be one of Mother’s allies, but his ambition has always surpassed his sense.  There’s no way he’d pass up the opportunity to hold something like this over her head.  If you get that journal, we may be able to find the princess.”

          “You make it sound so easy,” Carmilla quipped.  “Just sneak into the headquarters of the largest religious denomination in the city- a building FULL of militarized fanatics, I might add- pry a journal away from one of the greediest men in the empire, and get out before I’m fed to the hounds.”

          “That’s the gist of it,” Will confirmed, conveniently ignoring Carmilla’s snark.  “Securing the journal- and by extension, the princess- is the highest priority.  When you’ve done that…”  Will paused for a moment before going on.  “Cambell is one of Mother’s most influential supporters.  Remove him, and it will give us a chance to begin unraveling her power base.”  Will didn’t elaborate.  There was no need to.  The meaning behind his words was all too obvious.

          After everything Cambell had done to her in Coldridge, Carmilla didn’t think she’d have any qualms about killing him.

          “Once that’s disposed of, there’s one other objective we need you to complete.  One of our allies is an Overseer named Theo; he’s been detained under suspicion of treason after they caught him helping our cause.  The man is a genius strategist, and freeing him will greatly help us- and ultimately, you.”

          “When can I leave?” Carmilla inquired, standing to retrieve her equipment.  Now that she had a lead, she couldn’t wait to get started.  Laura was depending on her, after all.

          “Right now.  I’ve instructed Kirsh to ready the boat for your departure; speak to him as soon as you’re ready.”  Will gave Carmilla a confident smile.  “Stay safe out there, Kitty.  We spent a lot of resources to sneak you out of Coldridge; we’d rather you make it back from this in one piece.”  And with that he was gone, back down to the pub below to continue his machinations.  Carmilla finished her preparations in mere moments, practically bounding down the steps and flying out the door to the dusty courtyard. Maps of the distillery district and the surrounding blocks filled her mind as she plotted out a path of advance; she’d studied Will’s most recent diagrams, so she knew the area well.  The better her plan was going in, the better her chances.  As she reached the gates that opened onto the makeshift dock, however, she was stopped by a frantic yell from behind her.

         “Carmilla!”

            Glancing back, Carmilla saw Perry and Lafontaine running towards her.  She wasn’t especially surprised to see them together; when they weren’t otherwise occupied, the pair were practically joined at the hip.  “Are you… leaving… for the Abbey?”  Lafontaine gasped, trying to catch their breath.  Carmilla rolled her eyes.

            “No,” she replied, “I’m just off for a stroll through the refinery district.  The scenery around here was just getting SO monotonous.”  Lafontaine couldn’t quite suppress a chuckle, but Perry didn’t look amused.

            “While you’re there…” Perry paused for a moment, as if unsure.  “We have a favor to ask.”

            Carmilla couldn’t help but be intrigued.  “What sort of favor?”

            “Do you remember Captain Lawrence?” Lafontaine asked quickly.  Carmilla nodded.  The pair had… butted heads in the past, to phrase it gently.  A well- known leader among the members of the City Watch, Captain Danielle Lawrence had done some work in Dunwall tower under the Guard- Commander; mostly helping to coordinate patrols and security details.  Her heart was in the right place, but her methods were… overbearing at best.  Where Carmilla preferred a reactive vigilance, confident in her ability to protect her charge no matter the danger, Lawrence was proactive to a somewhat manic degree.  Laura had called her ‘stifling’ more than once, and Carmilla was quick to agree.

            “Is she part of our little coalition as well?” Carmilla asked.  “Because treason doesn’t sound like the beanstalk’s style.” Lafontaine shook their head.

            “No,” they answered, “but she’s still a good person; one of the last few left among the watch.  She isn’t corruptible like the others, and she still has influence.”  Lafontaine took a deep breath.  “A few days ago, I got word from a contact that High Overseer Cambell took delivery of a rare Tyvian poison, and he’s supposed to meet with Captain Lawrence tonight.  I think he’s going to kill her.”

            “We know that you have a job to do,” Perry cut in, “An incredibly important job, but… do you think you could protect her?  Captain Lawrence, I mean.  After all, you used to do that, right?  Protect people?”

            The words hit Carmilla harder than she let on.  The bitterness of her failure as Lord Protector still plagued her after all these months, but she had more or less resigned herself to acting as the Loyalist’s assassin in the week since she’d arrived at the pub.  If that was the part she had to play in order to save Laura, then she’d go along with her brother’s plans.  But being asked to save a life again… that was something she hadn’t expected.

            “Look…” Carmilla paused, unsure of exactly what to say.  “This isn’t a rescue mission, and I haven’t... protected someone properly for a long time.”  Both Perry and Lafontaine looked crestfallen.  “But if- and I make no promises here- I make it there in time, I’ll try to keep the Captain out of trouble.”

            “Thank you,” Perry sighed, relieved.  “That’s all we can ask for.”  The pair satisfied, Carmilla rushed down to the dock where Kirsh kept his boat moored.  He sat ready for her arrival, engine already humming with anticipation.

            “Ready to go?” he asked quickly, sensing Carmilla’s urgency.  She responded by climbing into the small craft and donning the mask that Lafontaine had made for her.  It fit like a well- tailored glove, and the glass lenses didn’t impact her vision at all. She’d have to thank the mad scientist when she returned.  Kirsch pulled the boat out of the dock and set a course for the distillery district as the sun began to sink down into the horizon.  It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	5. Witches and Watchmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Quick note; I go back and edit chapters even as I write new ones, in order to continually improve my writing and make the story easier to read. If you notice small inconsistencies or changes in wording in old or current chapters, that might be the reason.

            The sun was halfway under the horizon when Kirsh docked his boat under the distillery district’s bridge.  It was the closest they could get to Klavering Boulevard by boat, at least not without being detected.  A much more affluent area of the city, Klavering had been under tight security even before the new Lord Regent came to power. Now, curfews and checkpoints kept the area under a tight lockdown after sunset.  Not that Carmilla could do much walking around during the day, either.  Too many people knew her face, and those who didn’t had wanted posters on every street corner to remind them.

            “We’ll split up here for now,” Kirsh explained, pulling out a map weathered by time and sea air.  “The quickest way to the Abbey is going straight down Klavering Boulevard, but unless you can get past the Wall of Light checkpoints the watch has set up you’ll have to find another way around.” Lafontaine had briefed Carmilla on the Walls of Light back at the pub.  A set of paired electrical pylons powered by whale- oil batteries, the Walls of light were set up in front of gates and archways; anything that tried to pass between the pylons was instantly incinerated by arcing bolts of lightning.  One of the Royal Physician’s pet projects, most likely.  He’d always had a fascination with electricity.  “I can’t stay here for long,” Kirsh continued, “Or one of the corpse barges will spot me; I’ll bring the boat around to the other side of the Abbey and wait for you there.”  He tapped the point on the map for emphasis.  Carmilla nodded, burning the pickup location into her mind. She’d rather not have to walk all the way back to the pub once this was over.

            Carmilla left Kirsch under the bridge, creeping along the cobbled path that snaked along the edge of the water.  She passed one of the massive corpse barges, loaded with canvas- wrapped bodies; the smell of plague and decay was nauseating.  Every so often, watchmen atop the bridge tossed another limb form onto the pile.  Just being near it was nauseating.   Carmilla moved on as quickly as she could, scaling the steps that led up to the street level.  The Distillery district was nearly empty; the only movement Carmilla could see lay 30 meters to her left, where a pair of watchmen paced back and forth in front of the Wall of Light that barred the entrance to Klavering.  To her right, a row of decrepit apartments stood in grim silence.  As she scanned the area, the Heartbeat in Carmilla’s ear began to beat a little faster; there was a rune here somewhere.  There was no time to find it, however; she had to reach the abbey as quickly as possible.  She turned, and tried to slink away towards the Wall of Light.

            Apparently, the Heart had other ideas.

            With Carmilla’s first step, waves of searing pain exploded from the mark on her left hand, shooting up her arm and through her entire body.  Between Coldridge, her training, and her adopted mother, Carmilla had gotten used to pain.  But she’d never felt anything like this before, agony so complete and all- encompassing it felt like her soul itself was being eviscerated.  Carmilla fell to her knees, barely choking back a howl.  Every heartbeat brought another wave of torment.  Gritting her teeth, Carmilla turned back towards the apartments; with a shudder, the onslaught of pain subsided.  The message was clear.

            _Fine.  The Outsider wants his godamn rune so badly?  I’ll punch him in his smug prick face with it when he comes to collect._

            Tossing around possible methods of deicide in her head, Carmilla followed the sound of the Heartbeat to the furthest apartment on the block, a building so worn- down it made its surroundings look almost new by comparison.  An ancient woman stood on the second- floor balcony, emptying bins full of rubbish into the street below.

            “Garbage, garbage, garbage… all of it garbage…”

            The old woman’s mutterings floated down to Carmilla as she waited silently below the thin metal balcony.  To be honest, she was surprised to find anyone still living in the building; the whole area looked as though the citizens had packed their bags and abandoned ship months ago, not looking back to see whether the gangs or the rats lay claim to what they left behind.  Heavy wooden planks rendered the front door inaccessible; Carmilla waited instead for the old woman to limp back inside before blinking silently up to the balcony.  There was no trace of the woman inside; she must have already made it downstairs… but at the speed she was moving, that should’ve been impossible.  Something was very wrong here; every instinct in Carmilla’s body told her to run- but she couldn’t.  Not with the Outsider’s unspoken ultimatum hanging over her head.  So she pressed on, through the abandoned apartment.  Broken glass littered the floor, and the only illumination came from the whale- oil streetlamps outside; an overturned rowboat of all things dominated the far left corner of the room.  Carmilla could hear the old woman’s voice from the floor below, echoing softly through the empty halls.

            “Granny, granny, granny, come out with me instead… Granny, granny, granny, you can’t- because you’re de~ad…”

            The old crone must have lost her mind long ago, but Carmilla’s unease persisted.  Who the hell was this woman?  With the care of someone attempting to sneak past a feral beast, Carmilla crawled down the dilapidated stairs to the floor below.  There wasn’t much; a single hallway leading to the front door, and a makeshift kitchen under the stairs, with a door leading out to what was presumably a backyard.  The windows were boarded up, the internal whale- oil lamps long shattered; the only significant source of light was a small stove where the old crone was cooking… something.  It definitely wasn’t food, judging by the smell.  The only other light came from the open backyard door- a familiar faint purple glow.

_There it is._

            The old woman was still as Carmilla slunk past, milky white eyes never leaving her slowly bubbling concoction.  Beyond the door lay a simple, unkempt yard fenced off behind the apartment.  Several iron lanterns hung on rough steel pegs, each glowing with the familiar purple light of the Void.    What stood out the most, however, was the shrine constructed in the far corner. Metal spikes replaced whale bone, and the cloth that covered the altar was worn and raged, but the design of the Shrine to the Outsider was unmistakable.  A single rune lay atop the altar, bathed in purple light; Carmilla reached out tentatively to pull it away, snatching it as purple and black smoke began to pour from the base of the shrine.  She couldn’t help taking a step back as the smoke billowed up in a column, coalescing into the floating form of the Outsider. He looked down at her, amusement shining through his coal- black eyes.

            “Good evening, Carmilla,” he said, hanging suspended in the air; his voice sounded as much in her mind as through the air itself.  “I’m so glad you made it this far; it’s so terribly boring when a game ends before it has the chance to begin.”  Carmilla replied by throwing her newly acquired rune at his head.  It stopped inches from the Outsider’s face, floating down into his outstretched hand.  “I take it you weren’t pleased with my summons?” he continued, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  “Worry not; you won’t incur it the next time you try to ignore one of my shrines.  I simply wished to make sure we had a chance to talk before you became too… invested in your mission.  Still, even I hadn’t expected to meet you in so dangerous a place.”

            “Dangerous?” Carmilla asked warily, rage still simmering below a layer or curiosity.  “The only ones here are us and an old crone inside.”

            The Outsider’s laugh was simultaneously deafening and quiet, echoing through the mind with a condescending cackle.  “An old crone?  Come now; surely you’re more perceptive than that,” he chuckled.  “On the streets, they call her Granny Rags.  You wouldn’t recognize her real name, or the name of her family.  But an emperor begged for her hand once, and young men fought to earn her favor.”  The Outsider looked over at the door to the apartment, where Carmilla could still hear the old woman muttering over her… concoction.  “I watched her consider them all, measure their worth… and find them wanting.  Then, she made a very different choice.”

            Carmilla was intrigued.  She’d never heard the Outsider speak like this, at least in her limited interaction with him.  When he spoke to her, his words never came across as serious, as if watching her struggle and fight was a game to him, but just now… that was the closest thing to respect she’d ever heard from him.  Whoever this old woman was, she must have been important before her mind had gone.  Still… she didn’t have the time to pursue the mystery.

            “I hate to interrupt,” Carmilla said, very clearly interrupting the Outsider’s train of thought, “But I do have somewhere to be right now.”

            “Ah, yes”- there was the condescending tone she was so familiar with- “you’re off to see the High Overseer.  The leader of a grand cult dedicated to loathing me.  And by my count, you’ve collected…” A stack of runes appeared in his left hand; Carmilla recognized them as the runes she’d collected and stored in her room.  “Four of my runes!  I’m almost impressed.”  The Outsider thought for a moment.  “This grand plan of your brothers is more complicated than either of you could imagine.  Forces beyond your control have gathered in Dunwall as it spirals further into darkness.  Take this new gift; perhaps it will help you to better see the shifting tides.”

            Carmilla recoiled in pain as a thousand pinpricks of flame exploded behind her eyes.  It was so bad, she had to resist the urge to claw out her own eyes.  After what felt like an eternity, the agony finally subsided; when Carmilla opened her eyes, the world around her had changed dramatically.  Her vision was cast in shades of blue, as if she were wearing colored lenses, but through the apartment wall she could see the shining orange silhouette of Granny Rags hunched over her concoction.  There was more; Carmilla could see rats hiding in the apartment’s walls, a flock of birds taking shelter in the attic, all painted in stark orange and yellow against a cool blue backdrop.  No living creature escaped her sight.  She could see every form, every movement.  It was incredible.

            “I…This…” Carmilla stammered, struggling to put words to the experience. Blinking had amazed her, and it was certainly a useful ability, but this… this was something else entirely.  She could avoid every patrol or checkpoint in her way, watch her target through the walls, and spot ambushes coming before they even had a chance to make their move.  For a moment, she even forgot about her irritation with the Outsider for dragging her through a mad old woman’s apartment for a meeting.  It was only when the color bled back into her vision that she realized he was already gone, faded back into the primordial void from which he had appeared.

            Not wanting to waste any more time, Carmilla retraced her steps through the apartment and back to the street; Granny Rags never once reacted to her presence, her attention devoted completely to the slowly bubbling sludge on her makeshift stove.  Carmilla snuck back towards the entrance to Klavering Blvd, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement along the way.  Up ahead, the Wall of Light hissed and sparked, occasional bolts of energy arcing between the pylons with a defiant crackle, daring anyone and everyone to test the device’s power.  Carmilla had no intention of frying.  Instead of trying to pass through Wall of Light, she simply blinked to the top of the surrounding wall, balanced carefully between the metal spikes meant to keep out the rabble.  A brightly lit street unfolded before her.  A stark contrast to the dirt and degradation outside, Klavering Boulevard was clean and well- kept, the wealth of its inhabitants preserving it even as the rest of the city decayed. Part of the street bridged a deep natural crevasse, converted into a path to the lower city many years ago; guards patrolled the length of the bridge, ensuring that no one could climb up from below.  Carmilla knew this part of the city well.  If she followed the crevasse as it sloped upwards, it would open up into Holger Square- directly in front of the gates to the Overseer’s District.

            Carmilla dashed across rooftops and leapt between balconies as quietly as the night itself, traversing an obstacle course of resplendent three- story homes until she was perched looking down on the crevasse below.  Since speaking with the Outsider, her whole body felt somehow lighter.  She could run faster and jump further than ever before, and even Blinking felt easier than before.  Whatever the Outsider had done, it had changed her in more ways than one- a thought that was simultaneously exhilarating and horrifying.  The changes would certainly make finding Laura far easier, but if she kept changing like this, Carmilla wasn’t sure what she would become.  She pushed the thought aside for the time being; it would only distract her from the task at hand.  She could afford to worry about herself once all of this was over.  With a now familiar puff of dark smoke, Carmilla Blinked down to the road below, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath once she landed.  Moving the equivalent height of a six- story building still left her feeling drained.  She clearly still needed practice with her new abilities.

            _Speaking of which…_

            After scanning her immediate surroundings for danger Carmilla closed her eyes, focusing on the memory of the sensation she’d felt back at the apartment building.  She was prepared for the pain, but it never came; instead, all Carmilla felt was a strange release of pressure, as if a second set of eyelids had opened behind the first.  Gingerly opening her eyes, Carmilla saw the world dyed in blue once more, with the orange silhouettes of guards pacing above her.  The filter on her vision lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough for now; she’d determined that there was nothing living blocking her path. Still, Carmilla clung to the walls as she followed the path’s upward slope, deliberately keeping to the shadows. The cost of failure was to great not to take every precaution.

            The crevasse road eventually leveled out to a small alley connected to Holger square; across the way, a massive set of iron gates leading to the Overseer’s district loomed over their surroundings.  What caught Carmilla’s attention, however, was the imposing device that stood in the center of the square itself.  The Pillory of the Faithless; a massive cast- iron stockade, placed just low enough to force it’s unfortunate occupant into a perpetual kneel.  A group of 5 Overseers, the militant devotees of the Abbey, were arranged in a semi- circle around the pillory, all facing outwards.  They were dressed similarly to the city watch, with heavy navy- blue military coats, thick boots, and both a sword and a pistol on each of their belts.  But the Overseers uniforms were decorated in gold instead of red and while, and where watchmen wore small, bell- shaped helmets, each Overseer’s face was hidden behind a golden mask set in a perpetual scowl.  The effect was more than a little disconcerting. 

            The man kneeling in the stockade wore a nearly identical uniform, though without the golden mask; he had short black hair and tan skin, and he looked as though he hadn’t been properly fed in at least a week.  He matched the description of Overseer Theo that Carmilla had been given before she left the Hound Pits.  She’d been planning to retrieve him once she had dealt with the High Overseer, but if they were keeping him outside she might as well take care of it now. Opening the Pillory was simple enough; the mechanism was controlled by a set of levers set off to the left side.  But it was also a loud process.  Even if Carmilla could reach the stockade without being detected, she’d draw the attention of the five Overseers on guard, and they’d be quick to raise the alarm; with the Abbey’s headquarters on the other side of the gate, Carmilla would be drowning in Overseers before she had a chance to pull Theo out.  He’d likely be killed, and she would lose her shot at taking down Cambell.  She’d have to deal with them before she made any attempt to free the former Overseer.

           Five targets.  Five strikes.  She could do this.

           Carmilla let out a long, quiet breath, releasing all the tension in her body.  She drew her weapons and vanished, appearing just in front of the Pillory- behind the backs of the five Overseers.  They faced outwards, yet to realize that death itself stood behind them.  They wouldn’t have the chance to find out.

           Carmilla’s first two strikes were simultaneous.  In a movement as swift and accurate as a bolt of lightning, her sword pierced the throat of the Overseer in front of her, severing his spine in a single stroke.  In the same instant she fired her crossbow, bolt arcing through the air into the chest of the furthest overseer on her left.  Both men crumpled to the ground where they stood.  Carmilla turned her attention to the Overseers on her right, tossing aside her crossbow in a fluid motion. There was no time to reload.  Her sword moved in a deadly blur, burying itself in one Overseer’s throat almost to the point of decapitation; Carmilla reversed her grip mid swing, withdrawing her sword and stabbing into the next target with a single, fatal flourish. Before her crossbow even hit the ground Carmilla had turned her attention to the final man.  He reached clumsily for his sword, chest inflating in preparation to raise the alarm, hands shaking as he faced down the skull faced demon that had appeared from the mist to slaughter his allies.  Carmilla closed the gap between them in a single leap, her free hand lashing out to close an iron grip around the Overseer’s throat.  Even through the mask, she could feel the terror in the man’s eyes.

           After months of being trampled into the dirt by everyone around her, the feeling of power was disturbingly exhilarating.

           Carmilla dispatched the final overseer with a sword through the eye socket, allowing herself a moment to breath amidst the carnage.  It had been a while since she was last surrounded by this much bloodshed.  It’s not like she was a stranger to death; she’d always done what she had to as Lord Protector, including striking down those who dared to threaten her princess.  The Overseers had stood in the way of her mission, in the way of finding Laura.  They were her enemies, and she’d dealt with them.  Carmilla understood that.

           What worried her was the excitement she’d felt as the grisly deed unfolded.  That was new, and rather concerning.

           Deciding to avoid any more unnecessary confrontations until she’d sorted out this repressed aggression, Carmilla began looking around for a place to stash the bodies.  Leaving them in the open would cause a panic when they were found- and worse, would draw the attention of the rats. An unattended corpse wagon provided the answer she was looking for.  No one would notice a few more bodies on the pile, and the particularly virulent rat poison soaked into the wood would keep the pests away.  Once she’d stashed the remains, Carmilla turned back towards the stockade.  The commotion had roused Theo from his daze; he looked up at her, cunning shining even through exhausted eyes.

           “Carmilla, right?”  Even weakened, he still managed a low, rasping chuckle.  “I guess my plan must have worked if you’re here.”  Carmilla strode over to the Pillory, pushing down hard on the lever that controlled the device.  Her eyes shot to the iron gates as the sound of whirring gears filled the air, searching for any sign or sound of unrest.  But none appeared.  Theo fell forward as his arms and throat were released.  “Being able to breathe again is certainly nice,” he gasped, massaging the bruises on his neck.  “I’ll be sure to buy you a drink when this is all over.  Hell, I’ll buy you a hundred drinks if we both make it out of this this in one piece.”

           “Do you have a plan to get back to the pub?” Carmilla asked, bending to retrieve her crossbow from where it had landed.  She inspected it carefully for damage, but the craftsmanship seemed to have held up fine.  She should probably avoid throwing it around in the future.  Stowing it at her belt, she gave the emaciated Theo a once- over; there was no way she could take him with her.  He’d never be able to keep up with her.

           “I can take care of myself,” Theo replied, walking over to the corpse wagon and rooting through it for the mask of one of the Overseers Carmilla had dispatched.  He seemed utterly unconcerned by the death and decay as he wiped off the blood- spattered gold.  “The Abbey keeps a couple small motor boats at the docks a few blocks down; I’ll borrow one of those.  So long as I wear a mask, no one will be able to tell it’s me.”  He went to don the mask, then scowled and returned to wiping out the inside.

           “You’ll be able to do all that in your condition?” Carmilla asked, not entirely convinced.  Theo grinned.

           “Give me some credit here; I can be pretty damn resourceful when I need to be,” he said, fitting the newly cleaned mask over his face.  “You’re going after Cambell now, right?  Word is he’s supposed to meet with someone from the Watch in the second- story conference room in a couple hours.  Supposedly, he plans to poison them; you may be able to use that to your advantage.”  Theo fished a sword belt out of the corpse pile, buckling it around his waist.  “Once you’ve done the business, make sure you retrieve his journal.  If it isn’t on him, he’s stored it in his secret room.”  Carmilla could feel his smug grin even from behind the mask.  “Most people don’t know, but Cambell has a hidden chamber full of dirty little secrets.  It’s in the basements, near the entrance to the kennels.  The trigger is in the statue’s eye.”  With that advice he was gone, walking away in the direction of the docks with surprising stability for someone recently being tortured.  Carmilla turned her attention back towards the massive metal gates that loomed over her.

_I’m coming for you, Cambell. And when I find you... I’m going to have an awful lot of fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	6. An Awful lot of Fun

                Cambell’s second floor conference room was spacious and warm; the kind of room that made people let down their guard and spill their secrets.  Bookshelves lined the largely unadorned walls, and between hanging whale- oil chandeliers and a roaring fire the space was very well lit.  Several servants had already entered and left, cleaning and tidying up in preparation for Cambell’s meeting.

                None of them had looked up to see Carmilla pressed flat against the top of the highest bookshelf.  Waiting.

                Once she’d blinked over the imposing metal gates, gaining entrance to the meeting room had been utter simplicity.  A massive complex built in a U around a central courtyard, the Abbey’s main headquarters was designed to convey a sense of ancient dignity.  Sandstone pillars adorned high marble walls, and a thin outcropping of stone ran along the edge of the structure, conveniently positioned just below the second story windows.  The ledge was too thin for a normal person to balance on, much less walk across, but Carmilla was far from normal.  She slunk along the wall like a cat until she found the window she wanted, confident that the harsh spotlights illuminating the courtyard below would hide her from the guards on patrol.  There had been a rune hanging above the fire when Carmilla entered the conference room, framed as the spoils of the Abbey’s constant war against those who believed in the power of the Outsider.  She’d made sure to pull it down from its peg before settling in to wait atop the bookshelf.

               Carmilla had been hiding there since, preparing herself for the task at hand.  There were a thousand possible variables that could complicate her plans; in the hours of waiting, Carmilla considered every one of them.  Dozens of scenarios ran through her head, each accompanied by a separate plan that Carmilla mentally rehearsed until she could execute them almost on reflex.  Speed would be of the essence here.  Carmilla waited in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional creaking of a pile on the wall.  She was patient.

 _And from the sound of things_ , she thought, her mind brought back to the present by the sound of voices from outside the conference room’s oaken doors, _my patience is about to be rewarded._

              The soft click of a key in the lock preceded the opening of the conference room doors. Cambell entered first, followed by Captain Lawrence.  The Captain was as tall as ever, fiery red hair pulled back into a tight braid behind her. She was young, only a few years older than Carmilla herself, but her age belied her skills as a leader and with a blade.  She was actually one of only a few people in the city who could match Carmilla one- on- one.  They’d tried once; the duel had lasted almost half an hour before Laura had convinced them to stop.  They were both far too stubborn to give up otherwise.

              “So you think this… Theo, you said his name was… helped Karnstein get out?”  Lawrence asked, continuing their conversation from outside.  Her voice held an underlying tone of cold steel as she spoke; clearly she and Cambell were not on the best of terms, even when cooperating.

             “Oh, without a doubt,” Cambell replied, sounding as oily as ever.  “In fact,” he continued, pacing over to one of the cabinets, “our evidence suggests that he planned the entire escape.”

             “And yet you still have no idea who else was involved, OR how they managed to sneak a bomb that powerful into the prison,” Captain Lawrence shot back.  Carmilla allowed herself a silent chuckle.  She and the Captain might not get along, but she could appreciate the other woman’s aversion to Cambell’s bullshit.

             “Rest assured; we’ll have the information we require soon enough,” Cambell replied, a hint of irritation coloring his normally diplomatic tone.  “The man is simply being… difficult.  I’m sure he’ll be willing to share what he knows after a few more nights of contemplation.”

             “Maybe…”  Captain Lawrence sat in one of the many chairs surrounding the conference table, seeming to relax a fraction.  “This whole mess with Karnstein is becoming a nightmare.  My men are almost too terrified to make their rounds; it’s like they think she’s hiding around every dark corner.”

             “All the more reason to prioritize the traitor’s capture.”  Cambell reached into the cabinet below one of the bookcases, pulling out what looked like a bottle of Serkonan wine.  “Now, why don’t we share a drink while we continue this discussion?  A small toast, to the future cooperation between the Abbey and the City Watch.”  Carmilla could see the gears turning in Captain Lawrence’s head as she considered the offer.  She obviously didn’t trust the High Overseer- no one did, really- and for a moment, Carmilla was hoping that Lawrence would turn him down.

_Come on, Beanstalk.  Make my job just a little bit easier for once._

             “Fine.  But only one; I have duty rosters to sort out when I’m finished here

_Godamnit._

             Carmilla drew her crossbow silently; while she’d been waiting, she had prepped one of the sedative darts that Lafontaine had prepared.  She tensed her mind and relaxed her body, preparing for instantaneous action.    She watched Captain Lawrence accept the wine.  Heard the clink of the toast.  Saw glasses raised towards lips.

             Carmilla pounced.

             She leapt from the top of the bookshelf, firing her crossbow and twisting in midair to target the Captain while angling her body towards Cambell.  Both assassin and dart struck their targets simultaneously.  Lawrence slumped to the ground, sedative seeping into her bloodstream as Carmilla landed on Cambell’s shoulders.  She locked her legs around his neck and twisted, forcing them both down to the floor with a thud.  Her knees flashed out to pin Cambell’s arms down, unable to reach the weapons hanging on his belt.  Carmilla’s free hand, meanwhile, clamped down over his mouth.

             For a few moments, neither of them moved, but the energy in the room was almost palpable.  Carmilla ignored the Captain’s limp form, pouring all of her focus towards the man whose life sat balanced on the edge of her blade.  Cambell could’ve already been dead.  It would’ve been simple to snap his neck as they hit the floor.  But such an easy death was more than the scum below her deserved, and it wouldn’t have felt nearly as satisfying as what she had in mind.  Cambell’s gaze flickered across Carmilla’s mask, then down to her chest, searching for some symbol or insignia that might give him a clue to her identity.  His eyes widened in shock as he recognized the uniform of a Lord Protector, dyed black and navy blue to match the night itself.   Slowly, deliberately, Carmilla clipped the crossbow back to her belt and reached up to grasp the leather straps that secured her iron mask.  They gave way easily before her dexterous fingers.  This was necessary.  She wanted to do it.  Wanted Cambell to see the face of his killer, the silent demon that his own treachery had created.

             Carmilla wanted the High Overseer to know exactly why he had to die.

             As the mask fell away, Cambell’s pupils dilated to mere pinpricks.  An involuntary squeak escaped his lips, muffled by Carmilla’s gloved hand.  The man looked like he had seen a ghost.  In a way, she supposed, he had.  Carmilla slipped out her blade, extending it to its full length with a flick of her wrist.  Cambell looked like he was about to piss himself.  If his mouth weren’t clamped shut, Carmilla was certain he’d be groveling.  He’d beg and plead, offering everything under the stars in exchange for his life, all while desperately looking for a chance to slip away like the treacherous little snake he was.  Carmilla didn’t intend to give him that chance.  With a savage grin, she placed the tip of her sword under his chin.  She stared into Cambell’s eyes, memorizing every last ounce of his terror.  Then she pushed.  The blade met no resistance as is slid through Cambell’s jaw, stopped for only a moment by the base of the skull before the strength of Carmilla’s fury forced it through.  Cambell’s whole body twitched and spasmed, wide eyes rolling back into his head.  Then, finally, he lay still.

                The High Overseer was dead.

                Carmilla wanted to stay there forever, letting the bitterness that had festered within her for so long seep away and sink into the carpet alongside Cambell’s blood, but she knew she couldn’t.  She had to go, had to move.  Others would come soon, worried by Captain Lawrence’s absence or seeking out Cambell to perform his duties.  She had to find the journal.  Had to find her princess.  Carmilla rifled through the pockets of Cambell’s uniform, checking every possible hiding place, but found nothing.  The notebook must be in Cambell’s secret chamber, the one Theo mentioned.  Carmilla had visited the Abbey many times before, in an official capacity and otherwise, so she had a pretty good idea of how to get to the kennels.  But she couldn’t just leave the bodies in the open, where anyone could stumble onto them.  There was cabinet space below the bookshelves along the walls; Carmilla stashed the prone figures inside, and shifted the conference table to cover the ugly crimson stain on the carpet.  It would cover her tracks for the time being.

                Peeking out through a cracked set of double doors, Carmilla observed the movements in the hallway outside.  The floor was grey stone, with a long maroon carpet spanning the corridor’s length and a series of busts adorning the walls in memory of long- dead dignitaries.  Overseers patrolled back and forth, golden masks glinting under the light of whale- oil lamps.  They seemed far less diligent than the guards outside- but why wouldn’t they be?  In their minds, it would be impossible for anyone to break in from the outside.  If silence wasn’t so imperative, Carmilla would have laughed at their ignorance.  Instead, she slipped out of the conference room and slunk around the corner, towards the tall glass doors that marked the entrance to the stairwell.  There were several routes down to the lower level, but this particular set of stairs would take her directly to the basement entrance.  Time was of the essence, after all.  A quick check with her new ability confirmed that there was no one on the stairs; Carmilla snuck through the doors before that had the chance to change, closing them behind her with a soft click.  The stairwell was cavernous and dimly lit, illuminated only by a series of whale- oil lamps at it’s base.  A large chandelier hung down from the ceiling, but it remained unlit.  That didn’t make it any less of a useful perch, however.  Blinking onto the cold brass surface, Carmilla surveyed the base of the stairs.  A massive arch, at least 25 feet tall, led into the Abbey’s main foyer, but that path held no interest for Carmilla.  She was more concerned with the small metal door to the arch’s right, leading downwards towards the Kennels.  According to Theo, that was where Cambell kept his private sanctum.  A blink later she was at the door, ear pressed against the cold steel.  There was no sound from the other side, no footsteps or voices or baying of hounds, so she pushed open the door and slid inside.  Unlike the stairs to the second floor, the basement steps were cramped and narrow.  At their base was a room built entirely of dull grey stone, with a single door leading out to the Kennels.  The only other feature of the room was a decorative stone bust, depicting the founder of the Abbey of the Everyman.  An odd feature for an otherwise drab, depressing place.

_Theo did say to check the statue..._

                A quick once- over of the bust laid bare it’s secret; a small switch concealed in the left eye, invisible to those who weren’t searching for it.  With a soft click, a section of the wall slid away to reveal the entrance to the secret room.  What lay inside was like a twisted combination of a bedroom and a closet.  Rectangular in shape, and larger that the stairwell itself, the space was well lit and packed with luxuries.  Stacks of paintings and expensive- looking commodities were everywhere, along with baskets of fresh fruit and an audiograph player that filled the room with the sounds of a slow waltz.  A pile of stained mattresses sat in the far right corner, flanked on all sides by discarded wine bottles and discarded underclothes.  Carmilla tried desperately not to think about their purpose as she overturned the rest of the room in her search.  She found the journal behind a stack of portraits, all of Cambell himself; the entire room reeked of lingering egomania, a self- styled shrine for a holy man who was anything but devout.  Carmilla flipped through the leather- bound black book for any mention of Laura, but it was no use.  The entire book was written in code.  Carmilla slammed the book shut with a growl, stowing it inside her uniform along with several audiographs that she’d found alongside it.  There would be a chance to examine them later.  For now, it was about time she left this place behind her.

                Carmilla retraced her steps back through the Abbey to the conference room, careful to avoid the patrolling overseers that still stalked through the halls.  The room was just as she’d left it, with the exception of a growing puddle at the base of one of the cabinets.  Cambell was still leaking.  He’d be found eventually, Carmilla figured, so there was no real need to move him.  Captain Lawrence, on the other hand… as much as she wanted to leave her and move on, the she knew the Ginger twins would be crushed if Carmilla didn’t make good on her promise.  Besides, if she left the Captain here, she would be probably be tried and executed as a scapegoat for Cambell’s murder.  Carmilla pulled Lawrence’s limp form out of the shelf on which she’d stashed it, a soft grunt escaping her lips as she hauled the Captain over her shoulder.  The woman was heavier than she looked.  Somewhat unwieldy burden safely secured, Carmilla left the conference room the same way she’d come in- crawling out through the open window, leaving her grisly handiwork behind.

                Carmilla kept to the high ground as she edged along the side of the building in the direction of the pickup site, staying as quiet as she could while carting around the captain’ unconscious body.  Whatever Lafontaine had put into those darts, it was certainly effective; Captain Lawrence barely made a sound, no matter how much she was jostled around.  The ledge they were on didn’t run the entire length of the building, forcing Carmilla to drop down to the cobbled path below and continue on.  She checked ahead constantly with her new power as she slid between shadows, making sure that her path remained clear.  She’d have to think of a proper name for the trick when she had a chance to properly relax.  Navigating the Backyard wasn’t difficult, though calling it a ‘backyard’ was a bit of a misnomer.  The space behind the Abbey was a maze of bunkhouses and storerooms, a tiny city of low- lying buildings atop the cliffs that looked out onto the Wrenhaven River.  Carmilla slipped between the cramped alleys, ducking between grimy, stained walls and ducking under shattered windows to stay out of sight.  One of the empty workshops even had a couple runes inside, likely confiscated during a heretic raid; Carmilla grabbed them through a window as she passed, before the Overseers inside even had a chance to notice their absence.  With every step she took towards the cliffs, Carmilla could feel the tension in her body begin to ease.  She was almost out.  She was so close.  Three more turns and she’d reach the crane that stretched down the cliff, to the resupply dock.  She could climb down, rendezvous with Kirsch, and be back at the Hound Pits before sunrise to start on the journal’s contents. She could-

                “Please!  You have to listen!”

                Of course she wasn’t that lucky.

                Carmilla flattened herself against the wall, carefully dropping Captain Lawrence as she peered around the corner.  The alley ahead was blocked by four figures; three Overseers- one without his mask, bald head shining under the spotlights- and a woman with short brown hair.  They were faced against each other in a standoff, the maskless Overseer shielding the woman with his arm while the other two stood still as stone, pistols drawn.

                “Step aside, Brother.”  One of the masked Overseers warned.  “You know what must be done.”

                “She’s not a witch!”  The unmasked man cried, taking another step in front of the woman.  “She’s my sister!  I can vouch for her devotion to the order!”

                The masked Overseer scoffed.  “You think she gets preferential treatment just because you are her brother?  We have testimony of her transgressions!  She must burn!  ALL witches must burn!”  Carmilla grimaced.  The Abbey was relentless in its hunting of ‘witches’- anyone who stood accused of using the Outsider’s magic.  A category that Carmilla herself now belonged to.  Most of the time, however, the trials and accusations were just a farce; a way to silence dissenters who spoke out against the strictures.  In life, Emperor Hollis had been an outspoken critic of the witch trials; the feud between the Emperor and the High Overseer was almost legendary.  Now, with the Emperor gone, the Overseers had free reign.  Anyone convicted of witchcraft would find themselves on the pyre- whether they deserved to be there or not.  But at tragic as that was, it had nothing to do with her. Ducking back behind the wall, Carmilla picked up Captain Lawrence and prepared to blink to the top of the building she was hidden behind; she could be on the roof and across to the cliffs in a matter of moments, before anyone knew she was there.  If she got herself caught here, helping a pair of strangers, then Laura would be forever out of her reach.

                A soft thud drew her attention back to the confrontation.  The woman had fallen to her knees, her face streaked with tears.  “Please, Harold,” she sobbed, voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, “please don’t let them take me…”  Her brother- Harold, presumably- gave her a reassuring smile that almost looked real, his eyes still focused on the masked Overseers in front of them.  Carmilla turned back to the wall; this wasn’t her mission, wasn’t her problem to solve.  She could make it out of the Backyard without getting involved and she’d be one step closer to finding her princess.  She didn’t have time for this, not when a clean escape hung so tantalizingly low before her, whispering to her of safety and success and Laura.  She was so close.

                The masked Overseers advanced slowly, pistols trained on Harold.

                _I shouldn’t get involved.  Laura is counting on me._

                The woman’s sobbing echoed off the dirty walls around them.

                _I shouldn’t get involved.  Laura is counting on me._

                Harold drew the sword at his waist, face twisted with desperation.

                _I shouldn’t get involved.  Laura-_

_…_

_Laura would’ve helped them._

                Carmilla tossed the Captain’s body aside, blade extended with a flick of her wrist as she dashed out of cover.  Her boots thudded loud and heavy against the stone below, normal techniques of stealth and silence discarded in the haste of necessity.  The masked Overseers spun to face the noise, pistols firing towards the incoming threat, but neither hit; Carmilla came in low and fast, bullets passing harmlessly overhead.  Her sword arced up in a deadly crescent, catching the closest Overseer by surprise as the blade cut through uniform and flesh with equal ease.  The second man stumbled back, pistol abandoned in favor of a sword that Carmilla batted aside with almost contemptuous ease.  His terrified scream was cut short as Carmilla’s sword flicked across his throat, a last ditch attempt to call for help reduced to a shuddering gurgle as he fell.  The besieged siblings looked on in terrified confusion as the Overseers were dispatched, their lives saved by a masked stranger who’d appeared from nowhere.

                There was no time for explanations; even as Carmilla swung the blood from her blade, she could hear an alarm sounding from the main building.  Between the screaming and the gunshots, they must have noticed that something was going on.  “Run!” Carmilla hissed at the siblings, gesturing in the direction of the main building.  “Use the confusion to slip away; they’ll be too busy figuring out what happened to come after you.”  It looked like the woman was about to say something, but Carmilla was already turning away to retrieve the Captains body.  She’d have a sizable bruise when she woke up, but she was still breathing.  Mostly.   Carmilla slung the body over her shoulder and dashed for the cliffs, not bothering to look back and see if the pair had made their escape or not.  If they couldn’t make good on the distraction she’d given them, there was nothing more she could do.

                The only way to access he resupply docks was a chain that hung down the cliff from the backyard; during the day, it was used in conjunction with a crane to lift crates of weapons and supplies up the cliff.  Right now, it was Carmilla’s escape route.  The chain was long enough that most wouldn’t be able to climb all the way up or down even with both hands.  Carmilla managed it with one, shimmying down awkwardly while supporting the Captain.  She was driven by equal parts adrenaline and nerves; the alarms hadn’t shut off, and voices at the top of the cliff were getting closer.  Every Overseer in the Backyard would be upon them if she didn’t hurry.  Kirsch’s boat sat at the base of the cliffs, engines already purring with anticipation.  He must have been preparing to depart since he heard the gunshots.  The man himself stood on the docks, a lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers.  He gave Carmilla a grim smile as she approached.

                “You done?”  He asked, looking curiously at the bundle over Carmilla’s shoulder.  A gunshot rang out from the top of the cliff; Carmilla flinched as she heard the splash of a bullet a on their right.

                “Let’s save the chit- chat until we’re NOT getting shot at,’ she replied, stepping nimbly into the boat.  “I’ll fill you in on the way.”  Kirsch followed her lead, untying the boat and gunning the engine until they’d left the Abbey behind.  It was only when the cliffs were long out of sight that Carmilla allowed herself to relax, releasing a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.  They’d actually done it.  She was one step closer to fixing her biggest failure.

                One step closer to her princes.

                _Wait for me, Laura.  Wait just a little longer, and I’ll be there to bring you home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	7. A Bloody Annoyance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delays; school has been kicking my ass recently. Summer starts soon, though, so expect a much faster update schedule in the upcoming weeks!

_The smooth tile was cold against ten- year old Carmilla Karnstein’s skin as she lay curled up on the floor of her bedroom.  She felt like death.  Every muscle in her body ached, and the lacerations that cut across her back burned like fire.  Each was a painful reminder of the fact that she wasn’t quite good enough for the Royal Spymaster- or Mother, as she insisted Carmilla call her.  That had been her first order.  The second had stripped away Carmilla’s old name and identity, everything that she had been before coming to Dunwall tower.  All that was left was an empty shell, ready to be molded into the perfect little assassin.  The door to her chamber creaked open; Carmilla flinched at the sound, curling up into an even tighter ball.  Two sets of footsteps clicked across the floor.  Not Mother, then.  She would’ve been alone._

_“Hey, Kitty,” Will whispered, laying his hand on Carmilla’s shoulder.  She relaxed under his touch.  “How’re you feeling?”  Carmilla tried to respond, but all she could choke out was a low, rasping sob._

_“Try and move her to the bed,” a second voice instructed, low and melodic as a song. Mattie must have returned early.  “If we leave her like this, she’ll just feel worse down the road.”  Carmilla felt Will’s hands slip under her shuddering form, gently lifting her off the ground while avoiding the cuts across her back.  She didn’t struggle.  Even if she’d wanted to, the most she could to would be twitch her ragged libs at him.  Will laid her down gently on her stomach, letting her body sink into the soft bedding.  A low sigh escaped her lips; the sheets were cool, and much more comfortable than the floor.  Mattie knelt next to the bed. Her straight black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her elegant features displayed a warm smile.  “I brought you some salve, darling,” she said, holding up a small glass jar full of pale green cream that stood out against the backdrop of her dark- skinned hand.  “Sokalov’s apprentice slipped it to me when he saw me heading this way; I think the poor little fool was worried about you.”  Carmilla felt the back of her shirt lifted to her shoulders.  The marks on her back burned in the open air, but the pain was replaced with cool relief as Mattie’s thin fingers spread the balm across her back.  The low purr that escaped her lips made Will laugh, but he choked off the giggles when Mattie shot him a look over her shoulder._

_“I know Mother can be… overbearing, to put it mildly,” Mattie said, “but you’re strong.  I know you can make it through this.”  She chuckled, a low, melodic sound.  “Besides, you’re also unimaginably stubborn.  I doubt you’d let Mother win so easily.”  That was enough to make Carmilla laugh, almost in spite of herself.  Mattie always knew how to cheer her up.  “There’s my little monster,” Mattie said with a smile, wiping a lingering tear from Carmilla’s face.  “Now rest up, darling.  You have a big day tomorrow.”_

_“A big… day?”  Carmilla hadn’t been told about anything special happening.  Not that that was a surprise.  “What...-“_

_“Shhhhhh,” Mattie cut in, pressing a finger to Carmilla’s lips to silence her.  “Sleep.  I’ll explain everything tomorrow.  For now… let’s just say you’ll be part of a very special escort.”  Carmilla wanted to argue, to demand answers, but the darkness that had clung to the edges of her vision was growing stronger now that the pain had subsided.  All she could do was succumb to the lure of oblivion._

* * *

 

_“Aren’t you kind of young to be a spy?”_

_For the umpteenth time since waking up that morning, Carmilla had to resist the urge to groan loudly.  When Mattie had explained their purpose- escorting the Emperor across the city to inspect a new refinery that the government had invested large sums of money in- Carmilla had assumed it would be a long day of following on Mother’s heel like a trained dog.  Stay silent, play the role of the dutiful charity case, etc.  Humiliating, but easy._

_No one had mentioned babysitting an 8-year-old princess._

_Dealing with Laura Hollis was exhausting; she was so full of energy, she couldn’t even sit still in the mechanized carriage without bouncing up and down in her seat.  A sheltered girl, wide eyed and naïve, as saccharine sweet as the pastries that Carmilla occasionally snuck out of the tower kitchens.  It irked her to no end.  “Aren’t YOU a little young to be on this trip, Cupcake?” Carmilla snapped in response.  “I’m surprised they let you out of your playpen for something like this.”_

_Laura pouted, cheeks puffed out in frustration.  “I’m EIGHT!” she exclaimed, holding up eight fingers as if to prove it.  At least she could count properly.  “And my name is Laura!”_

_“What was that, Buttercup?”_

_Laura didn’t deem that worthy of response, twisting away from Carmilla and dramatically crossing her arms.  Carmilla could hear Mattie laughing from her seat across the carriage.  She couldn’t blame her; these exchanges had been ongoing since the train of mechanized carriages had left the tower.  The princess would say something naïve, Carmilla would snap at her with… admittedly more vitriol than was probably necessary.  She knew it was childish of her, especially considering the princess was two years younger.  But she just couldn’t help it.  There was just… something about Princess Laura that rubbed her every possible wrong way._

_The rest of the ride to the refinery was silent, for which Carmilla was grateful; she didn’t think she could take much more of Mattie’s snickering.  For safety purposes, the royal family had been split up between two carriages; The Emperor rode with his Lord Protector and the Spymaster in one, while the Carmilla and Mattie were forced to deal with the princess in another.  When they finally did reach the refinery- in- progress, Carmilla was the last to leave the carriage, eyes scanning their surroundings in accordance with her Mother’s training.   The buildings were disheveled and dirty, the workers milling about too nervous to look up from their work.  The refinery itself sat on the river, a mix of skeletal supports and scrap- metal scaffolding looming up towards a cloudy sky like the ribs of the whales that would be butchered there once the building was completed.  There were no obvious threats or signs of danger, and the visit hadn’t been publicized.  But a train of mechanized carriages anywhere in the city was enough to draw attention.  Samuel Hollis was a popular man among the poor and middle class denizens of the city, but it’s impossible to be a ruler without making enemies in one form or another; many nobles resented him for his focus on infrastructure and economic opportunities for the ‘rabble’.  Security was always a necessity, especially on trips like this. And for some reason, the Emperor had decided to bring his daughter of all people.  Why was she even here?  Carmilla had heard about the Empress’s passing from the servants, and of how… protective… the Emperor had become of his daughter in the aftermath, but this was ridiculous.  Even now, as the mixed group of dignitaries, ministers, and guards were led through the refinery by a nervous- looking foreman, the naïve little annoyance stuck to her father’s side as if on a leash._

_Carmilla herself remained with the Spymaster, walking a few steps being the royal family.  The tour itself was rather boring; the foreman prattled on about building codes and cost estimates while the Emperor listened intently, occasionally turning to one of the ministers for confirmation.  The grim scenery held little interest for Carmilla.  Instead, she watched the workers milling around them.  The refinery had been largely empty when they had arrived, with most of the focus on the outside supports at the time.  But as they moved through the unfinished floorplan, more and more workers began filing in, seemingly without any specific job or purpose.  They were clearly trying to be innocuous in their observations of the group, but their numbers were steadily increasing.  It was a little unnerving.  Carmilla wasn’t trained in reading people, but as the number of people grew even she could pick up on certain signs.   She saw diluted pupils and white knuckles, beads of sweat that stood out on such a cool day and tools shaking in clenched fists.  Every eye was trained on the Emperor and his oblivious daughter.  Carmilla looked to Lord Protector Spielsdorf, who walked immediately to the Emperor’s right.  She looked as calm as… no, that wasn’t right.  Her eyes were wary, focus darting around the area; even Carmilla could see it.  An inescapable wrongness was permeating the space around them, the air itself thick with tension._

_The soft glint of a raised muzzle, pointed towards the Princess, was all the confirmation Carmilla needed._

_Her body moved before her mind, dashing forward and tackling Princess Laura to the ground as the first shot rang out.  Chaos erupted; the Lord Protector and the tower guards moved to encircle the ministers and the Royal family, but they were outnumbered almost three to one.  The skeletal refinery had become a battlefield.  The two children were forgotten in the fray.  Spurred to action by the tumult that swirled around them, Carmilla leapt to her feet, dragging the Princess behind her by the hand as she dashed towards a nearby sawing table.  There was little Carmilla could do in this situation; her limbs still burned from the day before, and most of their assailants were nearly twice her size.  But running away?  That much she could manage.  As the pair crawled into the shadows beneath the table, Carmilla could see that the princess’s face had gone ash grey with terror.  This was probably the first time she’d ever feared for her life.  Carmilla wished she could say the same._

_The two girls huddled together in silence, Carmilla’s hand clasped reassuringly around the princess’s.  She might not like the girl much, but she was still the heir to the most prolific empire in the world.  If she died like this, the ramifications would be enormous.  Besides… she didn’t deserve this.  She was naïve, sure, but the princess’s open curiosity was kind of refreshing.  It reminded her of the other wards, back in Serkonos, whose names and faces she still clung to even as the memories of her happiness with them faded away.  Maybe that was why it was so easy for Carmilla to resent her._

_It wasn’t long before the fighting stopped; the attackers were numerous, but apparently poorly organized.  Peeking her head out from under the table, Carmilla counted the guards in the room.  Not a single one had fallen in the onslaught.  On the other side of the space, the Spymaster was already issuing orders for the surviving assailants to be rounded up for questioning.  Carmilla couldn't help but shudder; she knew what that would entail.  The men would be spilling their secrets soon enough.  Lord Protector Spielsdorf stood in the center of the open room, surrounded by piles of the dead or unconscious.  Beside her, Emperor Hollis was frantic._

_“Laura?!” he called, panic painted across his face.  “Has anyone seen my daughter?!?”_

_“Over here!” Carmilla called, at the same time the Lord Protector pointed their way.  She must have seen them hiding in the chaos; the woman was sharper than she let on.  Laura tried to crawl out of the hiding place, but her shaking legs made standing nearly impossible.  Sighing, Carmilla crouched to loop the Princess’s arm over her shoulder, hoisting her up as the Emperor rushed over to them.  She expected to let go, to hand the other girl over to her father; instead, the Emperor pulled both of them into a tight hug. Beside her, Carmilla could feel the panic slowly drain from the princess’s body.  Her tense muscles slowly unwound, her frantic breathing returning to normal.  Carmilla’s own tension had dissipated when the fighting ended, but now something else was taking its place.  Something that twisted and writhed in her stomach, gnawing at her insides.  The feeling was compounded when she looked across the room; the Spymaster was staring at them, disapproval clear on her face.  Carmilla wasn’t surprised.  There must have been something she did wrong.  There always was._

_“Thank you, Miss… Karnstein, was it?”  Turning away from the Spymaster, Carmilla looked back at the Emperor.  He’d released her from the embrace and was currently cradling his daughter in his arms, seemingly oblivious to the soot and blood that covered the floor he was kneeling on.  “Thank you for keeping my daughter safe.”  Carmilla could feel heat rising in her cheeks; she wasn’t used to being thanked.  The Princess was looking up at her, wonder shining through tear- filled eyes.  It was distracting._

_“I… I’m happy I could be of service, your Majesty,” Carmilla replied, as respectfully as she could manage.  Mother had drilled etiquette into her, and as much as Carmilla would rather reject the trivialities of the court, she wasn’t enough of a fool to be rude to the emperor in the wake of something like this.  So she bowed politely, and excused herself to stand behind the Spymaster.  With any luck, she could leave this incident behind when they returned to the Tower._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, let me know in the comments below; hearing from you guys is a big part of what keeps me going on this project. You can also follow me on Tumblr at Paradox451 for more quality gay content!


	8. If you Cant, then why bother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead yet!

           Carmilla’s first stop once she woke was her brother’s room.  By the time Kirsh had docked his boat at the pub, the sun had already begun its slow creep over the horizon.  No one had been awake save a few sleepy sentries, and Carmilla herself was too tired to bother waking Will up.  A few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt, she’d figured, and it’s not like Cambell would be any less dead if she waited.  But now it was noon, and she’d already slept through almost half the day.  It was time to work.  Will’s room was on the second floor, behind a heavy oak door that Carmilla didn’t even bother to knock on before barging in.  The room was much smaller than Carmilla’s, but far nicer; where Carmilla had essentially been relegated to a repurposed attic, her brother had laid claim to a master suite.  The shelves that lined the deep green walls were filled with books and nautical charts, and even the odd ship in a bottle.  A framed map of the city hung over an impressive- looking bed tucked against the far side of the room.  The whole place smelled faintly of salt and sea air, fresher and cleaner than the scent of the Wrenhaven river.  This was unmistakably the room of an admiral.  What drew Carmilla’s attention, however, was the massive desk that dominated the far right corner of the room.  Piles and piles of books and papers covered its surface, as well as the floor around it.  Will himself sat behind the desk, writing in a large, leather- bound notebook.  He looked up as she approached; dark circles stood out under his eyes, but he still managed a smile.

            “You did it, Kitty!” he said happily.  “The High Overseer is already the talk of the city; I knew I could count on you.”   He tried and failed to stifle a yawn before reaching out to press a button on the wall behind him; a bell sounded somewhere on the lower level.  “That being said, it would have been nice to get word of it when you got back. I was up all night waiting for a report that never came.”

            Carmilla ignored his complaint.  “I thought the Abbey would try and keep the whole thing quiet,” she said, confused.  “At least until they’d conducted their own investigation.”  It’s what she would have done, at least.

            Will laughed.  “I’m sure they’re trying, but every wealthy family in the city has eyes and ears in that place.  You know how much nobles love their gossip.”  Carmilla couldn’t help but roll her eyes.  He certainly wasn’t wrong.  Between Mother’s parties and her duties as Lord Protector, she’d rubbed shoulders with some impressively talkative family heads. The soft creak of the door caught Carmilla’s attention; turning, she saw Vordenberg shuffling into the room, with Theo on his heels.   _Speaking of talkative noblemen_ …  The old man seemed to be leaning a little less heavily on his cane, and Theo already looked healthier than he had when Carmilla met him in the stockade.  It seemed her success had done wonders for the Loyalists morales.  Will stood, leaning on his desk with both hands.  “With Cambell gone, we’ve dealt the Lord Regent an immeasurable blow,” he announced after a moment’s pause.  “Mother relied on the collaboration between the Overseers and the City Watch to maintain her influence on the street level.  Now that the Abbey is busy arguing over the succession, her control will begin to falter.”

            “The streets aren’t all she’ll lose,” Vordenberg interjected.  “Without Cambell’s infernal little book of secrets hanging over their heads, many of the neutral senators who have supported her Regency will begin questioning their own loyalties.”  Carmilla could hear the vitriol in his voice when the man spoke of the journal.  She wondered how many of his secrets she’d find inside its pages.

            “The Lord Regent is probably shitting herself up in Dunwall tower right about now,” Theo said with a chuckle.  “And now that we have that journal, we’re one step closer to figuring out where they’re keeping Lady Hollis.  Theo held out a hand towards Carmilla, as if expecting her to hand the book over.  She shook her head.

            “No offense, choir boy, but I think I’d rather hang onto it for now,”  Carmilla said with a smirk.  “If I can’t crack it, you’ll be the first person I call.”  Theo looked like he wanted to protest, but a side glance from Will silenced him.  He leaned against the wall instead, glowering silently at Carmilla.

            “From here, recovering the Princess will be our priority.  After all,” Will went on, shooting a glare at Vordenberg, “If we can’t place the rightful Heir on the throne, all of this will be meaningless.”  The old man’s grip on his cane tightened, almost imperceptibly.  The implication was obvious.  Carmilla made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the Baron, especially once they’d recovered Laura.  The old man may be on their side for the moment, but Carmilla trusted him no further than she could throw him.  Maybe even less.

             “Whatever we’re doing, we’d better be quick about it,” Theo interjected, sensing some of the tension in the air.  “I’d bet the Lord Regent is just biding her time until the right moment to ‘rescue’ the Heir and legitimize her Regency, at least for the next few years.  And with Cambell gone, she’ll have to do it quickly to minimize the infighting among the nobles.”  Theo turned to leave, casting one last look at Carmilla.  “I’ve heard stories about you and the Princess, Karnstein.  For her sake, I hope you don’t take too long deciphering that journal.”  He left without waiting for a reply.  The Baron followed suit, cane clicking against the wooden floor.

               Carmilla bristled with anger.  “You certainly have a knack for picking friends, William.”  The Admiral sat back down, forehead resting on his palm.

              “The Baron is a powerful ally,”  he said with a sigh, sounding even more tired than before.  “And Theo is known among the Overseers for his intellect and strategic knowledge.  It wouldn’t hurt you to play nice, Kitty.”

              “I don’t trust them,”  Carmilla shot back.  “Either of them.”  She knew what Will was trying to say, and she knew it made sense.  But Theo’s comment still burned beneath her skin, like an itch she couldn’t shake off.

             “Neither do I.  But this is an alliance of convenience; we’re all here because we need each other in one way or another.  A little civility will make things a lot less complicated.”  Will closed the journal that had laid open on his desk.  “Speaking of complications… I hear you brought back something interesting with you last night.”

             Carmilla stiffened.  When Kirsch had docked at the pub the night before, she’d handed Captain Lawrence’s unconscious body off to a worried- looking Perry and a relieved Lafontaine.  She hadn’t originally intended to bring the Captain back with her.  Once they’d left the Abbey behind, Carmilla had intended to just drop the unconscious body somewhere safe.  Maybe a dumpster or something.  But as satisfying as that might have been to consider, the more Carmilla thought about it, taking a risk on the Captain had become a much more attractive alternative.  She might not like her, but Carmilla knew how loyal Lawrence had been to the old Emperor and his daughter.  The papers and audiographs Carmilla had found in Cambell’s hidden safe were pretty damn incriminating.  Even if they wouldn’t hold up as evidence in a Parliament dominated by her Mother’s faction, if she could use them to convince Captain Lawrence of the Lord Regent’s treachery, the woman’s renown among the city watch would make her a useful ally.

             “I can convince the beanstalk to help us,” Carmilla explained, palms held out in a gesture of peace.  “The only reason she worked with Cambell was because she bought Mother’s line about my involvement in the conspiracy.  Once she knows the truth, she’ll start her own search if we don’t extend an offer.  Besides,” Carmilla added, “we can trust her a hell of a lot more than the choir boy or Baron Windbag out there.”

             The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours; Carmilla refused to back down in the face of Will’s inquisitorial stare.  She was certain this was the right call.  Eventually, Will sighed.

             “Fine.  But if this doesn’t work, you’ll be the one disposing of your mess.”  The implication hung unspoken in the air between them.  Carmilla nodded in thanks, taking her leave.  She had a Captain of the Watch to deal with.

             Lafontaine was already waiting for her when Carmilla arrived at the makeshift workshop.  Most of the damage from the last explosion had been cleared up, and the steady hum of electricity sang a quiet duet with the whirring of the machines set up throughout the room.  Notes of all kinds were strewn across floors, tables, even the walls; Carmilla saw a few diagrams nailed to the ceiling.  One looked like some sort of massive arc pylon.  A wire cot had been dragged into the furthest corner of the space, under the metal stairs that led up to the second floor.  Captain Lawrence was laid out on the white sheets, chest rising and falling as she slept.  A row of little welts on her arm belied the series of injections she’d been subjected to.

             “You’re actually here just in time,”  LAfontaine explained, leading Carmilla over to the cot.  “I’ve been giving her a diluted sedative all morning to keep her down, but we’re between doses now.  She’ll be up in minutes.”  They looked up as Perry descended the stairs, heels clicking against steel.  She had a set of heavy metal cuffs in her hands, and her face was lined with worry.

             “Are these really necessary?” she asked, tossing the cuffs down to Lafontaine.  “I mean, we’re just talking to her, right?”

             Lafontaine shook their head.  “She’s waking up in a strange location with the city’s most wanted woman on the other side of the room.  We just finished getting this lab in order after my last failure; I'm not letting her tear it apart again when she inevitably panics.”  Lafontaine approached the cot gingerly; Carmilla watched in amusement as they secured the Captain to the bed.

             “Do I want to know why you have those?”  she asked dryly.  Lafontaine grinned.

             “Probably not.”

             The three of them stood in the center of the room,  Carmilla a few steps behind the others, as they waited  for the drugs in Captain Lawrence’s system to wear off.  It didn’t take long.  After a few minutes, Lawrence began to stir.  Her breathing changed; her eyelids clenched tight before slowly wavering open.  “Where…” The woman’s voice was raspy and thick with sleep.  Her eyes wandered the room before settling on the two familiar faces. “Perry?  Laf?  Where am I? What-”

             Lafontaine and Perry were at the Captain's side in an instant.  “It’s ok, Danny!  We’re here.  You’re safe.”

             “Do you remember what happened?”  Lafontaine asked.  Danny shook her head, still in a daze.

             “I… I’m not sure.  I had a meeting with Cambell, at the Abbey, and-”

             And then her eyes landed on Carmilla.

            It was hard to say whether shock or fear took hold of the Captain first, but when her mind finally settled on an emotion it was an unbridled rage.  With a savage , incoherent scream she tried to fling herself across the room at Carmilla, only to be jerked back by the cuffs on her wrist.  She didn’t seem to care, however, straining against her bonds like a mad dog on a chain.

             “YOU...YOU… YOU MURDERER!  TRAITOR! VILE, PATHETIC, KIDNA-”

             “Danny, please!”  Perry cut in, reaching for the captain’s shoulder to try and calm her down.  Lawrence shoved her away, feral gaze twisting towards the redheaded maid as she fell to the ground.

             “What is SHE doing here!  Why am I-”  The blood drained from the Captain’s face.  “Are you HELPING her?!?  After what she did?!?  Are you-”

             That was as far as she got before Lafontaine slapped her across the face.  Hard.

             For a moment, everyone in the lab was quiet.  Perry’s hands flew to her mouth; Carmilla couldn’t help but grin. _That looked like it hurt_.  Captain Lawrence’s eyes still burned with barely contained fury, but she’d at least stopped yelling.  Instead, she glared up at Lafontaine, whose expression was unreadable.

             “I understand that you’re confused,” They said flatly, “and more than a little outraged.  You want answers.  I get that.  But yelling at Perry isn’t going to help.”  Lafontaine pulled a couple sheets of loose paper out of their dusty white coat and handed them to the Captain, who snatched them away with her free hand.  “Cambell was going to poison you at the meeting last night.  Something quick, untraceable, and VERY deadly.  The only reason you’re not at the bottom of the Wrenhaven right now is because Perry insisted we ask Dunwall’s most wanted over there to make sure you were safe.”  Lafontaine paused to breathe.  “Carmilla didn’t have to help you.  She probably didn’t even WANT to.  But she did.  So before you try biting our heads off, I’d suggest you take a second and listen to what she has to say.”

             The captain didn’t seem to be paying attention to Lafontaine’s tirade; instead, her face went white with shock as she poured over the documents she’d been given.  Whatever was in them, it was apparently convincing.  “Where did you get these?” She finally asked, a distinctly nervous waver present in her voice.  Lafontaine shrugged.

             “I’ve got a buddy down on the docks who lets me know what comes in  on the black market.  You never know what I might need for my experiments.”

             The Captain set the papers down, hands shaking.  A bit of the fire was gone from her eyes, replaced by a cold emptiness.  “Fine,” she said eventually, “I’ll listen.  But you’d better have a damn good explanation, Karnstein.”  Carmilla didn’t bother replying.  She wasn’t going to convince the Captain with words alone, even with Perry and Lafontaines support behind her.  Instead, she reached into one of her coat’s many hidden pockets and pulled out one of the audiographs she’d recovered from Cambell’s hidden safe.  There hadn’t been much time for Carmilla to analyze what she’d found; she had only been able to get through a couple of recordings before passing out after returning from the Abbey.  But what she’d found would be enough.  Lafontaine had an audiograph player on one of their tables, behind a set of suspicious- looking beakers.  Without a word, Carmilla inserted the audiograph and hit playback.

_“Curse those fools at Coldridge!”_ , Cambell’s voice rasped out of the device’s speakers.   _“Karnstein was supposed to be dead; who knows what the little bitch could do now!  Lilita- or Lord Regent, as she insists we call her- might not be worried, but I don’t have nearly as much confidence in the Royal Physician’s fancy security devices as she does.  I TOLD her we should’ve executed the brat sooner, but she insisted on ‘maintaining the system of justice’.  HA!  As if a woman who would frame her daughter cares about justice._

_At least the Hollis girl has been moved to a safe place.  Checking in on her twice a week has given me ample time to… inspect the facilities, as they say.  So there’s an upside, at least.  And if all this goes wrong, I have my assets in Karnaca to fall back on._

              The audiograph shut off with a soft click.

              No one spoke.  Lafontaine and Perry shuffled their feet, focused intently on the schematics scattered across the floor, but Carmilla kept her eyes trained on Captain Lawrence.  She sat motionless on the cot, head down; Carmilla swore she could see the gears in her head frantically struggling to connect the dots. Drawing inexorably towards the worst and only conclusion.  Her shoulders shook; her mouth opened and closed, unable to properly form her words.  Finally she spoke, head tilted up to face Perry.

             “That audiograph… it wasn’t fake, was it?”  The Captain's voice was full of desperation, as if seeking some way out of the truth she’d already arrived at.    Perry shook her head sadly.

             “It’s real, Danny.”  Perry stepped forward, reaching out to grasp Captain Lawrence’s hand.  This time, the other woman didn’t pull away.  

             “So let me get this straight,”  she said, her attempt at a cheerful tone failing to mask the wavering of her words.  “The High Overseer--”

  
             “Former High Overseer,” Carmilla corrected.  Captain Lawrence nodded, apparently unconcerned by the change.

             “-- Conspired with the Lord Regent to frame Karnstein for the murder of Emperor Hollis, and the kidnapping of his daughter, the heir to the throne.”

             “Yep,” Lafontaine confirmed.

             “Which means they were either behind the original crime, or they don’t give a damn about who actually was.”

             Carmilla laughed.  “It was them.  Mother is a power- hungry old witch, and her allies follow her like dogs on their leashes. They’d never let anyone else make a move as big as regicide, at least not without their approval”

             “... And this whole time I’ve been helping them,” the captain finished.  

             No one said anything.  The answer went unspoken.

* * *

             The candles that lit her attic burnt low as Carmilla sat hunched over her desk, staring down at Cambell’s journal.  An ever growing pile of crumpled paper lay at her feet.  After leaving Perry and LaFontaine to explain the situation to a shellshocked Captain Lawrence hours earlier, she’d shut herself up in the attic and tried every code and cypher she could think of.  Carmilla had been taught all of the Abbey’s encryptions as a child, each one drilled into her head by her Mother’s harsh training.  But nothing she tried made the books contents legible.  She could practically hear Cambell’s ghost taunting her with each failure.   _This is maddening_ , she thought, reaching for a new sheet.

             “Still burning the midnight oil?”

             Carmilla jumped at the sound of Theo’s voice; she must be far more worn out than she’d thought if she didn’t notice his approach.  The man stood a few feet away, leaning against one of the wooden columns supporting the rafters above.  He looked an odd mix of exhausted and unbelievably smug, as if he’d been waiting up all night for her to come begging for his help.  Carmilla scowled, returning her attention to the accursed black book.  She didn’t have time to deal with Theo’s antics right now.She didn’t need his help.

             “You know,”  Theo said, “There’s no harm in seeking out others for assistance.”  His tone sat firmly between conversational and condescending, and Carmilla did her best to ignore him.  “Especially when a girl’s life hangs so tenuously in the balance.”  If Carmilla didn’t need her hands to write, they’d either be covering her ears or wrapped firmly around Theo’s throat; she hadn’t decided which. “I’ve heard the rumors,” Theo continued undaunted, “about how… close you were to Princess Laura, before everything began to fall apart.  I can’t imagine how you must feel, how _desperate_ you must be to find her again.  To undo your past failures.”

             THAT got a response.  Carmilla lunged out of her chair in a single fluid motion, slamming Theo against the pillar he’d been leaning on.  A low, involuntary snarl slipped up her throat and out her lips, her calloused hands clenched tight around the fabric of his shirt as she literally lifted the taller man off the ground.  Six months ago that would’ve required effort, but the new power that flowed through her body made it almost effortless now.  If she’d been less distracted, that might have worried her.   “Don’t,” she growled, eyes burning with fury. “You weren’t there.  You have no idea what happened that day, and no GODDAMN idea what she meant to me.”  Carmilla released her grip, sending Theo tumbling to the ground.  “If you’re really so concerned, leave or shut up.  You’re a distraction.”

             To his credit, Theo looked remarkably unfazed for a man who’d just been lifted into the air and abruptly dropped.  “If she’s that important to you, let me help,” he said, with something akin to sincerity. Or at least a decent facsimile of it.  “Maybe I’ll see something that you missed.  Something only an Overseer would know.”  A part of Carmilla wanted to say no, wanted to send him away (or throw him out one of the windows that wasn’t boarded up.  A third- story fall wouldn’t necessarily kill him, right?).  But another part, one more rational and less blinded by grief and frustration, prevailed.  She knew that she was running out of time. Knowing the Lord Regent, the Loyalists had a day at absolute most to make their move.  Then Laura would be plucked from whatever hole she was hidden in and moved to a new location, out of their grasp.  She would never see her again.

             Carmilla refused to allow that.

             With a low grumble, she passed the journal over to Theo, whose smug grin had returned full force.  He thumbed through the pages briefly, eyes flicking across the seemingly incoherent letters and symbols.  Then he burst out laughing.  “No wonder you were having trouble!” he managed to gasp out between bouts of uncontrollable mirth.  “The crazy old man wrote the whole book in the Heretic’s Cant!”

             Carmilla frowned.  “What the frilly hell is the Heretic’s Cant?”

             “It’s an ancient code,” Theo explained, managing to compose himself somewhat.  “Witches and devout followers of the Outsider use it for rituals and secret communications.”  Without thinking, Carmilla scratched at the back of her left hand.  She could almost feel the mark burning beneath her glove. “Outside of the heretics themselves, only an incredibly small number of elite Overseers know enough to read it, much less write fluently.  Something about lesser men ‘being corrupted by the tainted script of the Outsider’.  Even if someone did get their hands on Cambell’s little black book, it would be nigh- undecipherable unless they knew what they were doing, and we've been VERY careful about sharing those details.”

             “Is it easy to learn?”

             Theo shrugged.  “Easy enough once you know the trick behind it, I suppose.  But I don’t think you-”

             “Good,” Carmilla interrupted, yanking the journal out of Theo’s hands.  With a single swift motion, she tore it in half down the spine.  “You can explain it to me as we go.”  She tossed half the pages to Theo, who stared at them dumbfounded for a moment before dragging a spare chair over to the desk and sitting down beside her.  For all his arrogance, the man was a decent teacher.  Carmilla picked up the basics of the Heretic’s Cant in minutes, and the two of them began to comb through the pages with renewed vigor.  Theo went page by page, line by line, fascinated by each new discover.  Carmilla, on the other hand, scanned each of her pages for the coded word “Hollis”.  She didn’t care about the rest.  Secrets were- had been- her sister’s favorite game, not hers.  Besides, they’d still be here when everything was finished.  At first, there were false alarms- mentions of the Emperor or the Princess from before the day everything changed.  But those died out soon enough, replaced by the machinations of nobles and clergymen and-

             There it was.  Midway down the page, written in a hurried scrawl

_Per Lilita’s request, we’ve transferred the Hollis girl to the Golden Cat.The Pendleton twins will be in charge of ensuring her security.  Lucky bastards._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the ridiculous chapter delay; a lot has been happening over the past few months, and I still can't promise a consistent update schedule. But I'm still committed to finishing this story, however long it may take me to get there. Also, I'd like to give a special shoutout to the Anon who reached out to me a couple of days ago. Hearing from people like you, who follow and enjoy what I'm doing here, is a big part of what keeps me going :)


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